Playing the Long Game
by Fearsome Chinchilla
Summary: Oliver Wood and Caroline Abbott - inseparable since age seven. Nothing could break their friendship apart, right? Nothing, except maybe quidditch, school, new boyfriends, new girlfriends, diverging career paths, the pains of growing up and falling in love with each other. Getting older is a never-ending struggle but in the end it's worth it when you're playing the long game.
1. Change of Seasons

**A/N: Hello all! I don't know what prompted me to write this story. It started out as wanting to dig into the lives of background HP characters and their lives separate from the golden trio…then it sort of took on a life of its own. I've planned for this story to cover a lot of ground – from the start of CoS through the end of the war and is going to be more than a slow burn but rather a look at a relationship through all phases. Also, aside from Hannah Abbott having an older sister, I'm sticking as close to canon as possible but there may be some inconsistencies that I miss etc. so apologies in advance!**

 **The rating is set to T for mild themes and language but I expect that will eventually change. All the chapters will also be titled after songs!**

 **So, anyway, without further ado here's the prologue and first chapter!**

 **Disclaimer – I don't own HP. I own everything you don't recognize as canon!**

 **Playing the Long Game**

 **Prologue and Chapter 1 - Change of Seasons**

A gust of wind blew across the lawn that sloped away from the castle towards the quidditch pitch. The gust blew at Caroline Abbott's face as she jogged across the lawn, her champagne blonde hair streaming behind her in a banner of wild curls. She stumbled along the slippery grass, destined for the pitch and the lone person she knew would be there. Caroline huffed slightly as she reached the bottom of the hill and then started in on the stairs that would take her to the stands. Higher and higher she climbed until at last she came out at one end of the pitch, closest to one set of the goal posts.

A boy hovered in the air on a broomstick, flitting between the three hoops. He moved in a series of coordinated movements that made little sense to Caroline, but made perfect sense to him. Already he'd been out longer than he told her, a full hour and a half of unnecessary training but Caroline hadn't been able to talk him out of it. Cupping her hands to her mouth, she shouted his name.

"Oliver!" He didn't acknowledge her call and she drew up her chest and yelled again, louder than before. "Oliver Wood!"

Oliver halted midway through his exercise. Caroline waved for him to come down. He soared in a neat loop around the goalposts, descending to land lightly on his feet. At thirteen years old Oliver was already one of the tallest boys in their year and was on the verge of hitting another growth spurt. Caroline disliked that she had to look up to talk to him.

"What's up?" He asked, bringing his broomstick to his side.

"Exam scores are out."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "You ran all the way out here for that?"

Caroline bristled at his nonchalant behavior. Ever the perfect Ravenclaw, Caroline obsessed over her grades almost as much as her best friend obsessed over quidditch. Crossing her arms grumpily over her chest she raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to know how you did or not?"

He sighed. "I get the feeling you're going to tell me anyway."

"You'll be happy to know that you passed and in the top twenty percent." Oliver made a surprised face before he grinned at her.

"Must be all those notes I borrowed from you."

Caroline scowled and sat down next to him on one of the benches. "You mean stole."

"Same difference," he replied waggling his eyebrows humorously at her. "Best friends share notes."

"Then why haven't you ever shared before?" Caroline wondered.

Oliver shrugged. "Why bother when yours are always better?"

"You'd fail out of school without me," she cautioned.

Chuckling, Oliver bumped her shoulder with his. "Nah, if all else fails I'll beg Percy for his stuff."

Caroline made a face at the mention of Oliver's rule-abiding and incredibly pompous roommate. While she looked out over the school's pitch, a new thought came to her. "Did Charlie talk to you?" She asked of Gryffindor's quidditch captain, Charlie Weasley.

Fresh excitement shone on Oliver's face. "Yeah, he said if I continue training through the summer that the starting slot is mine. Can you believe it! A third year, starting as keeper for Gryffindor."

"Ollie that's so exciting!" She squealed.

Almost immediately, Oliver's genuine veneer of excitement dropped only to be replaced by his recently acquired too-cool look. Caroline chalked up the sudden change in his behavior to his other three roommates aside from Percy. More than once Jacob Farrat, Ravi Delsham, and Peter Quimbly had teased Oliver about having a girl for a best friend. Despite Oliver and Caroline's protests that they'd been friends since they were seven, the three boys continued to rag Oliver about spending all of his time doing her hair or taking the quizzes out of _Witch Weekly_. Although Oliver swore up and down he wasn't affected in the slightest by their taunts Caroline had noticed that lately he seemed to be unusually quick to shut down any kind of friendly affection from her.

"Please don't call me Ollie anymore. We're thirteen now, not eight."

Raising her hands in mock defense, Caroline fell back on her normal defense mechanism. "Well excuse me Mr. Starting Line Player too cool for his best friend."

"I didn't mean it like that." His annoyed groan only prickled her irritation more.

"What are you moronic roommates saying this time?"

Oliver eyed her cautiously, as though afraid of what she might say or do next. It was a reasonable fear, thought Caroline. Just because she and Oliver had been nearly inseparable since the age of seven didn't mean she wasn't above retaliation for his occasionally bad behavior. Once, when they were ten, Caroline pushed him in the pond behind their neighborhood after he laughed at her little sister Hannah for playing with her dolls. Now at the end of their second year, Oliver had been on the receiving end of multiple minor hexes and jinxes whenever he got on Caroline's bad side.

When Caroline prodded him again for information he caved. "Jake and Pete started asking me whether or not I'd kissed you and when I said no they started laughing. Now every time they see me they make these stupid kissing noises."

Caroline's face scrunched up in mild disgust. "Me? Kiss you?"

"I know!" Exclaimed Oliver in agreement with her sarcasm. "I guess Holly Grisham kissed Jake last week or something and now that's all he wants to talk about it but its stupid. I don't see what the big deal is."

"Me either. But everyone always makes it a whole thing."

Oliver wrapped his hands around his broomstick handle and leaned forward, deep in thought. Caroline observed the way his dark brown eyes scanned the horizon. The sun started to sink over the forest in a blaze of beautiful color. In only two weeks she and Oliver would be back on the school train, bound for the small all-wizarding neighborhood where they'd grown up three houses apart. Already they'd talked excitedly about their plans to while away the summer days flying in the field behind their neighborhood and swimming in the pond there. Caroline liked to lay out on the deck of the small boathouse and let the sun dry her hair while Oliver tried to list off every quidditch foul he knew from memory.

He broke the silence and her reverie. "You know, other than Percy I'm the last guy in my dorm that hasn't been kissed? Jake told me that even Pete got Annabeth to kiss him on a dare."

"I think we do things differently in Ravenclaw. Nobody goes around talking about that stuff," she observed. "There seems to be a lot of pressure on that first one though."

"Maybe it'd be better to just get the first one out of the way," he joked.

Caroline sat up a little straighter, an idea coming to her. "That way when we do find someone we actually want to kiss the pressure's off!"

Oliver scooted away from her a little bit. A knowing light came to his eyes. Having been the victim of Caroline's absent-minded ideas before, he knew when she was coming onto something she thought was brilliant. "You don't mean, kiss each other? No. No way. You're like my sister."

"Don't be ridiculous, we're not related in the slightest and you yourself said it'd be nice to take the pressure off. It's not like I'm a hag or anything."

Tilting his head to the side, Oliver considered her for a long moment. The wheels in his brain continually turned over the idea until at last he frowned. "It would just be this once."

"Absolutely," Caroline agreed. "Just to get it over with."

"Well, when you put it like that I guess it makes sense."

He moved back to where he'd been sitting. Leaning his broomstick on the bench next to him, Oliver rotated his body to face Caroline. Their knees bumped together and she felt her cheeks heat up in anticipation of what they were about to do. Their eyes locked, Oliver's brown reflecting the anxiety in Caroline's stormy grey eyes. "So, okay, here we go."

At the same time they inched towards each other. Caroline closed her eyes at the last possible second when they smashed their mouths together in a close-lipped kiss, the first for both of them. She'd read enough in magazines to know that she should be a little softer and so she tried to relax under the uncertain pressure of Oliver's mouth against hers. Kissing, it turned out, was not all that it was cracked up to be in her estimation. They pulled back hastily, both of them red in the face.

"There. Now we can both say we've kissed someone and don't have to worry about it anymore. And let's never, ever do it again."

Oliver nodded fervently. Bells chimed in the castle, signaling dinner. They stood at the same time bumping into each other. "C'mon, let's go down to dinner."

He marched ahead, already spinning off down a new avenue of conversation, their kiss completely forgotten. Caroline paused and touched her fingers to her lips to hide her tiny smile. When he stopped and called out for her to hurry up, she jogged to reach him all while thinking that Oliver Wood would probably turn out to be a good kisser.

Some day.

Very far in the future.

While kissing someone else.

X X X

 **Three Years Later…**

The sun was just barely rising over the tops of the trees that lined the small garden of a cozy house. Comprised of one story with a cozy upstairs room, the house contained several oddities common to all wizarding houses. The grandfather clock in the hallway accounted for the whereabouts of five people each with their own hand. At the moment two hands bearing the names 'Hiram' and 'Charlene' pointed to London, where three other names 'Helena, 'Caroline,' and 'Hannah' pointed to home. The main hallway split off once, going down to an addition to the house where a corner bedroom jutted out into the garden.

Most of the room's floral wallpaper had been covered by posters and large collages of pictures taken through the years. A star chart took up a chunk of one of the walls, marking the movement of the planets while a royal blue and bronze banner hung over the corner of the dresser mirror. Textbooks, pieces of jewelry, makeup, and several half-finished sketches littered the top of the dresser along with a stack of folded laundry. More clothing scattered across the floor, spilling out of a steamer trunk, the top of which had been painted blue with a bronze eagle.

A teenage girl slept in bed, most of the floral covers thrown away from her upper body as she slumbered peacefully, curled around her pillow. The bottom hem of her tank top rode up on her narrow waist and a stack of knotted bracelets, all traded around with her friends, lined her wrist. Her abundant pale blonde hair was a tangle of slightly greasy curls, splayed across the pillow behind her. Sometime during the night she kicked her feet free of the blankets, revealing toenails painted dark purple to match her fingernail polish. Caroline Abbott slept peacefully, completely unaware that someone was watching her through her window.

She blinked blearily into the sunlight the second time her watcher tapped. Raising her head she barely swallowed her shout of surprise. Clutching her chest as though it would calm her pounding heart, she sat up with a groan. Caroline's fingers caught in her tangled hair, trying to bring some order to it while she got out of bed. Shuffling over to the window she fumbled with the latch and seriously considered punching the person who stood on the other side of it.

"Oliver Patrick Wood what the _hell_ are you doing? It's daybreak!"

Oliver Wood glanced back to the trees where the sun was still rising. "Its way past daybreak, move out of the way."

Caroline Abbott didn't have much of a choice but to move back as he grasped the edge of her window sill. In a surprising show of grace and agility for being six feet tall, he lifted himself up and inside her bedroom. It wasn't until he was actually inside her room did Caroline think with horror at what she was wearing. Oliver glanced down at the pajama pants she wore, pale purple adorned with little cartoon rabbits and stars.

"Cute," he said with a teasing grin.

Caroline dropped her head back, staring at the ceiling while she wondered what she'd done to deserve the world's most annoying friend. She marched back to her bed and flopped face first into her pillows. "Oliver, go away."

The weight distribution changed as he came to sit on her bed, propping his back up against her headboard. "Nope! Earlier this week you promised me you'd help with training exercises if I helped you finish painting the garden shed, which we did. So it's time for you to pay up, Abbott."

Caroline raised her head to glance at the clock and she let out a pathetic moan. "But it's not even six-thirty! Why can't you be like a normal teenager and sleep till noon?"

"Because that's valuable training time wasted?"

She rolled over onto her back and glanced up at him. An entire list of jinxes and curses rolled through her brain and more than ever she wished she was seventeen. Oliver was already dressed for training and if she had to guess he'd already been awake for an hour, reviewing the pieces of his new program he'd already put together. Folding her hands over her stomach she wiggled her body deeper into her covers, trying to get comfortable. Oliver was practically vibrating with energy, ready to get going. When Caroline realized he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon she sat up and glared at him.

"If you don't make it onto a pro team it won't be because you didn't try hard enough, I'll give you that," she conceded and earned his manic grin in the process.

"That's the spirit!"

Caroline paused in the middle of her room and crossed her arms over her chest. Oliver blinked at her. "Oliver," she said, voice dripping with irritation. "If I'm going to spend all day being a traitor to my own house for the sake of your ruddy quidditch team I should probably not do it in bunny pajama pants."

Understanding dawned on him and he shot up from the bed. "Right, of course, getting out now. I'll see you in the kitchen in five."

Caroline glanced at her reflection to see her hair and sighed. "Make it ten."

Oliver squeezed her upper arm as he passed. "You're the best!"

Rather than go back out the window, he opened her bedroom door and started for the kitchen. Caroline rolled her eyes. Oliver spent almost as much time in the Abbott kitchen as she did. "Yeah, yeah you broomstick obsessed quaffle-head."

"I heard that!"

Caroline pinched the bridge of her nose. "I meant for you to!"

X X X

Out of childish spite, Caroline took an extra ten minutes so that by the time she waltzed into the kitchen she found Oliver sitting at the table looking very cross. "You said ten minutes, not twenty," he groused.

"And you believed a sixteen year old girl so that's your own fault. Do you want any coffee? I think there's enough for two cups," she said checking the coffee maker her mother left on before she went to work. Oliver shook his head, making a face and she grinned. "More for me then," and she fished a muggle travel mug out of a cabinet. "Oh would you stop looking at me like that? Just let me leave a note for Hannah to join us when she wakes up. At a reasonable hour," she muttered under her breath.

Oliver remained restless until at last Caroline finished her note and grabbed her coffee and an apple. They stopped by the garden shed so she could grab her broomstick and then set off for the field behind their neighborhood. While they walked towards the pond and the little boat house there, Oliver filled her in on the basics of what he wanted to do that day, which included all of the things Caroline despised the most, including defensive drills. But, a promise was a promise and so she let him continue to talk her ear off until at last they reached the boat house where they sat on the dock where the summer sun cast warm rays over her shoulders. She ate her apple and thought about other things while he droned on and on.

"So? Thoughts?" He asked when he finally finished.

Caroline rest her chin in her hand. "I think you should probably shorten the speech by a solid five to ten minutes 'cause right now you're just asking for the Weasley twins to give you hell."

Oliver glowered at her. "You're not being helpful."

"That was not part of the agreement."

He clambered to his feet and gave her hand up. "Just get in the air, Abbott."

Caroline did as asked, mounting her broomstick and kicking off the ground. The still cool air whipped across her face, finally waking her all the way up. Flying was not a natural skill for Caroline, not the way it was for Oliver but over the years she'd gotten quite adept at it. Growing up, Oliver needed a training partner and there were no other kids in their neighborhood close enough in age. So, Caroline stepped up to the plate and often found herself the target of his well-meaning, if annoying criticism. Oliver said helping her helped him be a better captain. He also said she improved every summer but she didn't believe him.

"You're too tense," he called, soaring around her with ease. Caroline rolled her eyes. She hadn't been on a broomstick since Easter holidays and even then she'd only flown once. "Loosen up your shoulders and grip, remember—"

"A tight grip equals jerky flying," she repeated along with him, knowing all of his favorite little phrases by heart. "It is amazing to me that none of your teammates haven't tried to kill you during practice."

Oliver laughed, hovering in the air a few feet away from her. "Probably 'cause they know they couldn't get away with it."

Caroline arched an eyebrow, reading a challenge between the lines. "It wouldn't be that hard to make it look like an accident."

"Yeah it would," he said, showing a streak of arrogance before he took a sharp dive, pulling up just in time to snatch his scarlet practice quaffle off the ground and tuck it under his arm. "Now come on, I want to try some of this stuff out!"

Carline let Oliver bully her into all manner of exercises and drills, using her as the benchmark for the rest of the team. She knew he didn't mean his comments as insults, comparing her rather lackluster attempts to the likes of Angelina Johnson or Alicia Spinnet, girls with actual talent on the pitch. Oliver got tunnel vision when it came to quidditch and that sometimes included accidentally insulting her abilities. For the most part Caroline didn't care; quidditch wasn't her thing and never had been. Oliver tried to convince her to go out for the Ravenclaw team more than once, saying that with some consistent training she could be really good but Caroline was certain their friendship wouldn't survive playing for rival teams.

The sun climbed ever higher in the sky. It was nearing nine-thirty when Caroline noticed a girl running towards the field. Her straw blonde hair was drawn into curly pigtails that bounced over her shoulders.

"Hannah's in an awfully big hurry," Oliver remarked, skimming to a halt next to her.

Caroline's little sister, Hannah, came sprinting down the hill, nearly tripping and tumbling once. "Whatever it is it can't be good."

"Cara! Mum's home, she wants you to come back to the house!" Hannah yelled through her cupped hands. "Oliver, you're supposed to go home too!"

Caroline and Oliver exchanged confused glances. It was unusual for her mother to be home on a week day. "Both our mums want us at home? That's odd. What d'you think it's about?" He asked her, while they slowly descended back down to earth.

"No clue, I didn't do anything stupid. Did you?"

"Unless climbing in your bedroom window this morning counts," he mused, rubbing his chin. "But they've never gotten mad about that before."

"Well, we weren't sixteen the last time you did it," she offered and he shrugged, as if their ages weren't even remotely important when it came to climbing through her bedroom window. Then a thought occurred to Caroline and she clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her gasp. "It's O.W.L. results. It's been about a month, it has to be!"

Oliver's coloring took a slightly green turn. "The moment of reckoning."

Caroline's feet hit the ground, she started towards Hannah and he reluctantly followed. "Come off it, Ollie. I'm sure you did fine."

"How could you possibly know that?"

Shrugging, she offered him a cocky grin over her shoulder. "Easy, you studied with me."

This was of little comfort to Oliver but they parted ways to head to their own houses to either receive their scores or learn what they'd done so wrong. When Caroline walked into the kitchen it turned out she was right. An owl bearing a white square envelope stood on the perch in the kitchen. Caroline's mother, Helena, dressed in her work robes, hovered close by. Caroline took the envelope with slightly trembling hands. Making sure nobody else could see her scores she opened the envelope, took a deep breath and pulled out the letter containing her score. Carefully she reviewed each line. Her heart rising with each little 'O' or 'E' printed next to nine of her ten subjects, including the grade she'd been worried about the most.

"I did it," she breathed, looking at the bold 'O' on the same line as Potions. "I got an Outstanding in Potions," she whispered, double checking that she hadn't read it wrong.

The bubble of fear she'd carried around all summer burst, releasing a wave of euphoria. Caroline's whole world remained upright and on track with just that simple grade. She couldn't believe it. "I can take the N.E.W.T. level class! That's step one for the International Potions Institute," she cried happily as her mother hugged her, exclaiming her congratulations.

"Let's see the rest of your scores then," Helena said and Caroline happily showed her mother who let out a low whistle. "Seven 'O's and nine OWLs overall! Caroline I am so proud of you, sweetheart! Wait till you tell your father he'll be over the moon!"

"I think mum might actually be more excited than you are," said Hannah under her breath, peering around Caroline's shoulder. "Though I can't believe you're going to willingly take another two years with Snape."

"The only downside, but I figure if I can put up with his sour face for another two years then I can handle any of the masters at the IPI." Helena was still spinning off in raptures over Caroline's performance when a knock on the back kitchen door cut her off. It was Oliver, clutching his own letter.

"You're not gonna believe it," he said, his own shock at his performance echoing in his voice.

"Swap?" Caroline asked and he held his out in exchange for hers.

Oliver hadn't done as well as she had, receiving no Outstanding's but that hardly mattered. He'd gotten 'E's on all of his subjects except History of Magic and Potions where he'd gotten an 'A' and a 'P' respectively. The important part was he'd done well enough to stay in most of the same classes that she had moving forward.

His snort of laughter filled the kitchen. "A 'P' in History of Magic? Really?"

Caroline shrugged, perfectly unmoved by her single failing grade. "Who cares what a whole bunch of old, prejudiced, dead wizards did back in ye olden days of yore? Besides, how did you get a 'P' in potions? You had _my_ notes!"

Oliver rolled his eyes but handed her results back to her. "Did it ever occur to you that I was trying to fail that one? If I'd actually gotten an 'O' you'dve made me take it with and that wasn't gonna happen."

"Still! I'm so proud of you!" She exclaimed forgetting their separate failures and threw her arms around his neck. Oliver wrapped her in a brotherly hug.

"Who cares about me? You aced it! Although I can't believe you're willingly taking two more years of Snape."

"That's what I said! He's such a git!" Hannah echoed, taking advantage of both Caroline and Oliver's distractedness to snatch their results and compare the two.

"Too right," Oliver agreed before he perked right back up. "Don't be shocked if my mum writes you a thank you note. She knows I'dve never passed everything without your notes. She's gone mental by the way, I think she's telling the whole family now."

Caroline was beginning to come back down to earth and she shook her head. "I don't know why she's so surprised. I never doubted you for a second."

"Well this is just too exciting for words. Oliver, I'm going to see your mother. I think this merits celebration." Helena disappeared with a crack, leaving the three kids alone in the kitchen.

The bubbly feeling rushed up through Caroline's chest and she felt as though she could take on anything in that moment. Smacking Hannah's shoulder with the back of her hand she grinned at her sister. "Hey, want to try and take on Oliver? Two on one?"

X X X

A few days after her OWL results arrived, Caroline stood in front of her open closet, staring at the mess of muggle clothes that hung there. As a half-blood child, she was used to existing in two worlds and had the receipts to prove it. Her suitcase sat open on the floor at the foot of her bed, already half-packed with the clothing she would need for two weeks at her father's house in Cambridge. Everything she owned that indicated she was a witch would be left behind, right down to her wand which would be stowed in the top drawer of her dresser. The bracelets she liked to wear with charms that moved or changed colors depending on her mood or the weather were all sitting on her dresser along with the bottle of nail polish remover she used to take off the polish that flashed different colors whenever she wiggled her fingers.

Oliver sat on her bed, inspecting the application she'd been forced to fill out to receive her provisional driver's license. "You're really going to learn how to drive?"

"Yeah, my dad's insisting on it. He made Charlene learn and I'm sure he'll force Hannah to do it. I've told him like fifty times that if all goes well I'll be able to apparate by the end of the year but you can't tell him anything. He says that being part of both the muggle and magical worlds is a privilege and I should learn to respect both."

Oliver, who was as sheltered as pureblood wizards came, made a face. "Isn't driving really dangerous?"

To this, even Caroline couldn't help but smirk. "Isn't flying around fifty feet in the air on a broomstick trying to avoid two speeding bludgers really dangerous?"

"Well, yeah, but at least that's exciting," reasoned Oliver. Caroline laughed and fished a blue dress out of her closet. She held it up to her figure in the reflection of the full length mirror next to her closet. Satisfied that the dress still went with her coloring, she slipped it off the hanger and packed it with the rest of her things.

"So, what are you going to do while I'm gone?"

"Finish up my new training program. I've got some more tactics to refine for the chasers before I tackle Fred and George's stuff before I'm ready. Plus, I've got to start thinking about some new strengths for Harry to develop. His two catches last year were spectacular and I need to keep that trend going, he's our best hope at winning the cup."

Caroline rolled her eyes. Ever since Harry Potter started at Hogwarts last year he'd been one of Oliver's favorite subjects and a point of particular pride. One of the worst fights they'd ever had was over the rather inherent unfairness that Professor McGonagall bent the school rules to allow a first year to not only have a broomstick at school but to play quidditch on a house team on top of that. Oliver, who had already gone through a misery-laden tryout session, was bordering on desperate until Harry dropped out of nowhere. He didn't care in the slightest that Harry was likely being given special treatment simply because he was the famous Harry Potter. Talent was talent in Oliver's book and Harry Potter possessed that in spades.

"You know you're pretty integral to the team's success too," she reminded him gently. Oliver also had a particularly bad habit of downplaying his own importance to the team. Caroline typically appreciated his humble attitude but every so often his willingness to elevate his teammates' efforts above his drove her crazy. Nobody worked as hard as Oliver did. Of that she was absolutely certain.

"I mean, I'm decent but stopping goals only matters so much in the game."

"Rubbish," said Caroline as she dumped another two shirts into her suitcase. "You're just as important as all the other players and one of these days the points system is going to shine a light on that, Ollie. Besides, without your coaching Harry wouldn't be nearly as good as he is now and the team wouldn't have Alicia if you hadn't noticed her talent and pulled her up from reserves."

Oliver's cheeks flushed a pleasant shade of red. He had always been terrible at taking compliments. "It's nothing."

Caroline sat on the edge of her bed. Their eyes met and she gave him an encouraging smile. "It's not nothing and deep down you know that. Teams are only as strong as their leaders. You said that to me,"

"Yeah, well, I've said a lot of things," he grumbled under his breath, now genuinely embarrassed. Caroline smiled, patting his knee affectionately. There were times when Oliver did things that drove her mad like wake her up at dawn to play quidditch but then he gently reminded her of all the reasons he was such a good friend and person in the first place.

"I hate these two weeks every year," he groused. "It's quiet and my mum drives me mad."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm going to be bored out of my mind at Cambridge. What's the point of having Hannah and I come stay if my dad's still going to be teaching a summer class? When we were kids he used to actually take us places but I guess he can't be bothered now that he got my mum to agree to partial custody."

Oliver frowned from his perch atop her messily made bed. "So, why go at all?"

Caroline sighed miserably. "Because that's what their agreement says. Dad gets us two weeks every summer." The subject of her parents' contentious and protracted divorce was still a sensitive one for Caroline and it came as a relief when Oliver picked up on her reticence and changed the subject.

"So, did you read the book list for this year?"

"Yeah, my mum's about to have a meltdown. Two full sets of Lockhart books is asking a lot. Plus Hannah's already grown from last year and needs new school robes."

"Who do you think the new Defense professor is that they assigned the whole collection?"

"It's got to be a witch, right?" Caroline mused. "Even my mum got all pink and flustered at the mention of Lockhart's name. She uses his guide to household spells and pests all the time. I think she's even ordered one of his cookbooks."

"My mum got all giggly too, it was downright painful to watch." He flopped back onto her bed, his head landing on one of her pillows. "I do not want to go a whole year listening to some witch talk about how great he is."

"Looks like you won't get much of a choice," said Caroline as she returned to her closet to go back through her clothes again. They fell into silence for a while until Oliver brought the conversation back around to tactics and training sessions. Caroline let him prattle on about his latest ideas to rein in the Weasley twins, each one as unlikely to work as the last until a shadow fell across her doorway. Helena Abbott was within two inches of her daughter's height and at one time possessed the same flowing blonde hair that all three of her daughters had. Now she kept it cropped short in a vain attempt to hide the silver that now shot through the strands. But she had a kind face and was equally kind to match.

However, that particular night, she stood in Caroline's doorway with her arms loosely crossed over her chest. There must have been something about the sight of sixteen year old Oliver Wood on Caroline's bed that turned her the wrong way. "Oliver, dear, it's starting to get late."

Oliver sat up and glanced at the clock. "It's only nine-thirty," he mused and started to say he didn't have to be home until ten but Caroline cut him off with a raised eyebrow.

"Ollie, I think my mum is trying to kick you out in the politest way possible."

"Ah, gotcha. Sorry Ms. Abbott. I'll be on my way. Caroline, have fun at your dad's, I'll see you in two weeks?"

"I'll drop by your house when I get back," she promised and waved him out of her room.

Helena didn't immediately leave which piqued Caroline's curiosity, but not enough to outright ask. Usually when her mother had something to say she got around to it on her own time and without any poking or prodding. Sure enough, as Helena waved her wand to refold the clothes in Caroline's suitcase she got to the point.

"Caroline, love, I'm not sure how I feel about Oliver being in your room these days."

"What? Why?" She spluttered more out of surprise than anything else.

Helena shifted her weight guiltily, losing her concentration on her wand work. The clothes she'd been magically folding drooped back into the suitcase even worse off than they were before. "Well, for one thing the two of you aren't twelve years old anymore. And for another, I can't help but notice that Oliver's turning out to be a very handsome young man."

Caroline prayed for some hereto unknown monster in her closet to reach out and drag her into the shadowy depths of her clothes. That surely had to be preferable to having this conversation with her mother. Putting her hands on her hips, Caroline raised her eyebrows, unamused. "Mum, are you serious? Are we really going to have this conversation?"

"Well, you had to know it was coming eventually! You two aren't children anymore."

"We also aren't doing whatever it is I think you're accusing us of doing," Caroline reasoned.

Helena turned a telltale shade of pink. "Would it be so surprising if you did? Like I said, he's gotten quite handsome in the last year and you two spend so much time together. Are you really telling me you've never considered it before?"

Caroline snorted in laughter. "No," she said flatly. "I mean, Oliver's cute but I don't go around dating guys just because they're good-looking. Plus it's _Oliver_ , I used to throw water balloons at him from the guest room upstairs."

"You don't go around dating anyone," Helena noted under her breath. Caroline threw her a sharp glare.

"So? Aren't parents of teenage girls supposed to be relieved that their daughters aren't sneaking under the stands with the captain of the quidditch team?"

The pregnant pause that followed told Caroline she'd struck a nerve. She shuddered to think what her father, a muggle physics professor, would think if she came home on the arm of an athlete. Both Helena and Hiram were in rare unanimous agreement about Caroline's potential and the trajectory of her future. Every step of the way was already laid out according to Caroline's dreams. Get top grades. Work for a year to fulfill the prerequisites of the International Potions Institute. Spend three years at the Institute in Seattle working her arse off and then get a job doing medicinal potions research. Change the world by discovering ways to reverse previously incurable diseases. There were only a handful of things that her parents knew could throw a wrench into the works. A handsome boy was one of them.

Helena sighed and took Caroline's shoulders, turning her about face. "I just want you to be aware that things are changing. You say you feel this way now and maybe that'll stay the same but Oliver isn't the only boy on the planet. Someone else will come along and I just want you to be careful with your heart."

"I will," said Caroline emphatically. "This may come as a shock but I have been listening this whole time to your lectures about boys and respect and my choices are my own."

"Well, good," said Helena in a pleased sort of way.

"Now will you please drop the whole Oliver in my room business? Because we both know you can try to put your foot down but I'm pretty sure he doesn't even remember that our front door works in both directions."

Even Helena cracked a smile at this and she nodded. From the depths of Caroline's closet she pulled out a floral party dress. "You should probably take this. Your gran wants to have tea while you and Hannah are in Cambridge."

X X X

The air was cool and crisp when Oliver left Caroline's house, going out of the back door to hop the garden wall. A well-worn track cut through the thick grass behind the gardens of the two houses that sat between his home and Caroline's. As Oliver rounded the shallow corner, he shoved his hands in his pockets, contemplating the coming two weeks. He'd meant his remark to Caroline; the two weeks she spent at her father's every summer were his least favorite two weeks of the year. Caroline was a constant presence in his life and his world always seemed a little less in every respect whenever she went away. That he was facing the business end of two weeks helping his mother out with an endless to-do list didn't really improve the situation. At least when Caroline was around she helped him and made chores like cleaning out the attic or trimming the hedges fun. A small smile came to him when he thought about how only the week before she'd attacked him with the garden hose while he cleaned out the gutters.

Oliver let himself into his house only to find his father helping himself to leftovers from dinner. More than once Caroline noted that looking at Patrick Wood was like getting a glimpse into Oliver's future. Oliver didn't see quite the same resemblance in his father that Caroline did but he took heart in the fact that his father still had all of his thick brown hair in his late forties.

"Helena kick you out?" Patrick asked while he heaped a spoonful of roast potatoes onto a plate.

"Yeah, Caroline's not nearly finished packing and she leaves at seven tomorrow morning."

Patrick summoned a fork from the drawer across the kitchen. "She excited about seeing her dad?"

Oliver snorted in poorly concealed, sarcastic laughter. "Doubtful. Her dad's teaching a summer class and won't be around during the days at all."

Patrick just shook his head in silent disapproval. The contentious divorce between Helena and Hiram Abbott provided a constant source of neighborhood gossip but for Oliver's parents, who had been friends with both of Caroline's parents, it had been particularly vexing because of the toll it took on Caroline and Hannah. More than once Oliver's mother opened the front door to find Caroline standing there, clutching Hannah's hand and asking if it was alright if they stayed for a while, just to escape the yelling. Marianne Wood always invited them in with a motherly smile and the sincere promise that they were welcome any time. Sometimes Helena came by the Wood house the same night to collect her children with a thousand mortified apologies. Sometimes Marianne would send an owl to the Abbott house assuring her that Caroline and Hannah were fine and had already fallen asleep on the large sofas in the sitting room. Oliver could still remember coming downstairs one night to find Caroline with her arms around Hannah, promising that things would get better. Hiram Abbott moved out of the house at the end of that summer though the battle continued to rage for a full year after. Oliver's parents never quite forgave Caroline's parents for the hell they put their daughters through.

Oliver retreated to the heavily charmed, ancient refrigerator. He produced the milk bottle and went about pouring himself a glass. Patrick ate his leftovers in thoughtful silence, glancing every so often at his son. More than once Oliver thought his dad was going to say something only for him to shut his mouth again. Eventually, Oliver grew irritated of the false starts. "Something on your mind?"

Patrick hesitated. "I was just wondering, has Caroline been dating anyone?"

Of the litany of things his father could have said, Oliver never expected that particular question. The answer was still leapt easily to the tip of his tongue. "Nope."

"And you two aren't-that is, well, you're not." Patrick broke off awkwardly, his voice winding down in the face of his failure to string a sentence together.

Oliver's eyebrows flew up and he nearly spit out his milk. "No," he said so firmly it almost sounded rude. "Dad, no. Caroline and I are just friends. We've always only ever been friends. Where is this coming from?"

Patrick turned a funny shade of red. "Surely you've noticed," he started to say and then scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to reorder his thoughts. "Caroline is turning out to be quite a beautiful young woman."

Oliver frowned. His mind strayed to Caroline's slender figure and long blonde hair. "Well of course she's pretty, so are a lot of girls. What has that got to do with anything?"

The expression of thinly concealed exasperation that crossed his father's face told Oliver that this particular conversation as only going to get worse. He started eyeing the swinging door that would take him out of the kitchen and away from this subject. But Patrick remained undeterred. "I only wonder if you've considered the possibility of your friendship being something more and whether Caroline's thought the same thing. It wouldn't surprising for one or both of you to develop feelings and to want to experiment with the boundaries of your friendship."

"Boundaries?" Oliver spluttered, truly stunned. "You're not suggesting what I think you are."

"Why wouldn't I? Caroline is beautiful and you two spend all of your time together, adding hormones into the mix can change the dynamic of any friendship. I just want to ensure that if you do develop an interest in her you understand that sex is a two way road and no matter how much you think you know what she wants that's no replacement for her consent."

Oliver really did choke on his milk now. A series of fuzzy, distorted images were trying to form in his mind, of being intertwined with Caroline. Nothing came out right, it was simply impossible for Oliver to imagine Caroline in any capacity other than his best friend. Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose and held up a hand. "Dad, stop. Please, stop. This is Caroline we're talking about. _Caroline_. The girl who used to push me in the pond when we were eight. It's never going to happen."

Patrick looked thoroughly unconvinced but he changed course. "Well, if it's not Caroline then it's going to be someone else, which doesn't change the basics of this conversation. Regardless of what your mother says I know we can't stop you from dating and having physical relationships but I can impress upon you the importance of being respectful and safe."

Oliver had to cough to cover up the worst of his shocked laughter. When he regained himself he raised his eyebrows. "Dad, I'm sixteen. Don't you think it's a little late for the birds and the bees?"

The scowl that crossed his father's face reminded Oliver strongly of the few times in life he'd gotten in real trouble. "It's never too late to ensure that you won't be an idiot when it comes to girls. Right now it's easy for you to stand here and tell me you understand all of the potential consequences but when you're in that situation it's completely different! There are things you haven't thought about, things that haven't been an issue until now."

Another wave of amusement washed over Oliver. He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. "Like what?"

"Like Caroline-don't roll your eyes at me. Just because you don't see her that way doesn't mean other boys won't. What are you going to do when she starts to date someone else?" Oliver's responding silence was answer enough. A look of triumph crossed his father's face. "She's not going to go unnoticed forever, Oliver. You're used to having her undivided attention and I'm not sure you're ready to lose part of her to someone else."

Oliver's insides squirmed uncomfortably. The previously comfortable air in the kitchen now felt unbearably hot and close. Nerves in his muscles twitched, urging him to get out of the situation as fast as possible. Where was his broomstick when he needed it? The thought of Caroline with someone else had crossed his mind a handful of times, usually when she was nursing a crush but those had never been serious. Oliver knew he'd never really given much thought to her actually dating anyone because he always just assumed she would be there.

"I'll cross that bridge when I get there," he said at last, not quite meeting his father's eyes. "There's no point in worrying about something that hasn't happened yet." Oliver drained the last of his milk. "Can I go upstairs now?"

Patrick could recognize when he was pursuing a lost cause. He waved his hand dismissively. "Go on."

Oliver trudged upstairs, trying his hardest to push an unpleasant thought out of his head. He'd never cared about Caroline's crushes before. But as he shut the door to his bedroom and flopped back on his bed, he started to imagine something new. Caroline's arms wrapped around a nondescript man, smiling up into his face as though he were the only person in her world. Unbidden to him, Oliver's fingers curled into fists at the thought. He didn't know why and he knew it was perfectly irrational, but he hated that generic nonexistent man.

 **A/N: So there it is. I hope you like Caroline! She's fun to write, a little opposing force against Oliver's mildly neurotic personality.**

 **Next chapter picks up at school and features some first lessons!**

 **Like all authors, I love and live for your feedback! Let me know what you think! Much love - Chinchilla**


	2. With A Little Help From My Friends

**A/N: Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own HP, I do own Caroline and everything else you don't recognize as canon! Much love.**

 **Playing the Long Game**

 **Chapter 2 – With A Little Help From My Friends**

When Caroline was a first year, she was the first in her class to be sorted. Murmurs had rippled through the crowd of her fellow first years when one, two, three, and four minutes went by without an announcement of her house. A classic hatstall, Caroline had endured the musings of the Sorting Hat as it picked through her brain before coming down to two options. On the one hand she was a good candidate for Gryffindor, being possessed of a desire to stand up for what was right and valuing integrity in everything she did. But on the other hand, she was a natural fit for Ravenclaw and the Hat seemed to know that curiosity drove everything Caroline did. In the end the Hat decided she valued curiosity and inquisitiveness along with the desire to learn for the sake of learning and so it shouted Ravenclaw. She still remembered the cheers erupting from the Ravenclaw table when she took off the sorting hat and joined her new classmates. The disappointment on Oliver's face was readily visible to her from where she left him, knowing there was virtually no way they would end up in the same house now. He'd always wanted to be a Gryffindor and had banked on Caroline being sorted there too. Caroline had felt particularly torn about her new house until a girl with long, curly hair so deep brunette it was almost black sat down next to her with a broad smile. She stuck out her hand and said 'Hi, I'm Penelope Clearwater.'

The two girls had been friends ever since, developing a bond that almost rivaled Caroline's friendship with Oliver for closeness. Penelope was whip smart and just as funny, possessing the same dry sense of humor that Caroline had. Where Caroline couldn't talk about boys or personal issues with Oliver, she could go to Penelope who relished in setting aside her books for such diversions. They wasted hours in their dormitory over the years, painting their nails and speculating about their classmates, fawning over handsome wizards in magazines, and making plans that would carry them well beyond their school years. And on the first night of the new year they always sat together to recount the bits of information they collected on the train and to take stock of the changes in their classmates over the summer.

During the sorting the girls like to speculate about what house first years would end up in based on their demeanor when approaching the stool. "Definitely a Gryffindor," muttered Caroline under her breath as she watched a small boy with a shock of blonde hair nearly trip over his feet running to the stool. "He's got that eager beaver look about him."

"Hmm, I dunno, could be a Hufflepuff they're borderline obnoxiously enthusiastic," said Penelope from behind her goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Yeah but remember Hermione Granger from last year? I thought she was going to tear the hat she jammed it so hard on her head," said Caroline as the sorting hat announced that little Patrick Beasley was a Gryffindor.

Penelope snorted with laughter, earning a curious look from some nearby second years. "I forgot about Granger. Ooh what about this one? He's got that Slytherin swagger about him, doesn't he?"

"Definitely," replied Caroline in a low voice, watching a boy with slick black hair saunter up to the stool. "I've always wondered, d'you think the Slytherins haze their new first years? Like, forcing them to shine the older kids' shoes or stand in the middle of the common room balancing stacks of books on their heads?"

Penelope tilted her head, looking off into the distance while she considered this new thought. "I imagine they force them to make voodoo dolls of the Gryffindors and wake them up in the middle of the night for creepy candlelit rituals that involve eating live goldfish or sacrificing mice."

Elise Kinsley, one of their other roommates shot a fierce glare at Caroline when she ducked her head to muffle her laughter. Across the way, sitting almost exactly across from her at the Gryffindor table, Caroline made eye contact with Oliver who raised his eyebrows curiously, his lips pulling into a grin at the sight of her shaking shoulders and pink forehead. Caroline, couldn't take her hand away to mouth that she would tell him later, she was still laughing too hard. Penelope heartily slapped Caroline's back a couple of times, grinning wickedly at her successful derailment of her best friend.

It took Caroline another moment to recompose herself and by the time she did Marta Cardona joined Ravenclaw and a miniscule boy named Colin Creevey took his seat at Gryffindor. The sorting went on, peppered with their commentary and speculation. Occasionally Elise offered her own thoughts until at last Beatrice Young sat down at Hufflepuff and McGonagall took the Sorting Hat and stool out of the Great Hall. Professor Dumbledore's speech was brief, limited to the usual friendly reminders about the Forbidden Forest, Filch's prohibited items list, and a reminder about magic being used in the corridors.

"I am also pleased to announce that this year the Defense Against the Dark Arts position will be filled by Gilderoy Lockhart, who has happily agreed to take time away from his strenuous writing schedule to join us," said Professor Dumbledore.

A great deal of applause filled the hall as Professor Lockhart, clad in eye-popping aquamarine, stood and gave a cheery bow and wave. Several knots of girls were giggling wildly as they put their heads together and Caroline could only guess they were discussing the jaunty angle of Lockhart's hat or the way his smile somehow managed to show off nearly every single one of his gleaming white teeth. Even Elise was faintly pink while she clapped hard. Caroline made eye contact with Oliver again who shrugged his confusion at the big fuss. At first it appeared that Lockhart was going to say a few words but Professor Dumbledore kept talking, forcing him to sit down.

At last, Professor Dumbledore gave the word and golden platters, bowls, and tureens of food appeared on all of the house tables. Caroline didn't realize how hungry she was until confronted with roast chicken and root vegetables. Caroline ate while Penelope chatted away about prefects duty and catching two particularly amorous fifth years in the lavatory; she was about to ask Penelope about her prefects duty schedule when her little sister Hannah appeared, her golden blonde pigtails bouncing over her shoulders.

"Caroline! Did you hear? Did you hear?" She exclaimed as she ground to a halt. Penelope and Caroline hardly had time to move to allow Hannah to drop onto the bench between them, huffing as she did.

"About how Fred and George Weasley almost set the train on fire?" Penelope mused and Hannah shook her head.

"Or about how Marcus Flint and Iris Parkinson are apparently dating?" Caroline mused.

"Ew, no!" Hannah exclaimed making a face that accurately reflected Caroline's own sentiments on the rumor about the boorish captain of the Slytherin team. "No, this is about Harry Potter! And his friend, Ron!"

Somehow, Caroline wasn't completely surprised. Over the top of Hannah's head she saw Penelope raise her eyes to the enchanted ceiling. Ever since Harry Potter came to Hogwarts the year before he'd been a constant source of interest, rumor, and more than a little exasperation. The amount of trouble that Harry and his friends caused during a single year alone vastly outweighed everything that Caroline had ever done over five years combined. Hannah found Harry particularly interesting though Caroline suspected that was due to her being in his year more than anything.

"What did they do now?" Caroline asked, scanning the Gryffindor table for the skinny boy and his redheaded best friend. Hermione Granger was present, a rather worried expression marring her face while she talked to the round-faced Neville Longbottom, one of Hannah's friends. But there was no sight of Harry Potter or of Ron Weasley.

"He and Ron apparently flew a car to school!"

Penelope dropped her spoon in shock, splashing soup all over the place. "He _what?_ "

"Yeah!" Hannah squeaked, nodding her head furiously. "And they crashed it into the Whomping Willow!"

"You're joking," said Caroline. "Where on earth did you hear that?"

"Well Hermione Granger came by our compartment asking if we'd seen them and word got around that Harry and Ron weren't on the school train. Then Ernie overheard her talking to Ron's brothers, you know the twins? And they told Hermione that they might've taken a flying car that I guess Ron's dad owns!" Hannah launched into a rather long-winded explanation so detailed that by the time she stopped more than one curious Ravenclaw was listening over Caroline and Penelope's shoulders.

"So, they're gonna get expelled, right?" Alexandria Boot asked.

"I don't know," said Hannah rather abashed. She was not used to being the center of attention, especially when to a group of sixth and seventh year Ravenclaws. "Someone at our table saw through the door that Snape dragged them down to the dungeons."

More than one Ravenclaw blanched at this notion. It was common knowledge that if there was any professor to avoid trouble with was Professor Snape. Elise Kinsley frowned. "Still, two second years smash a car into the Whomping Willow? They're bound to get in loads of trouble, even if Professor Dumbledore would never expel Saint Potter or his friends."

Caroline had no doubt of that. She glanced across to the Gryffindor table where Oliver sat with his roommates, laughing over his mostly empty plate. "I bet Oliver would go mental if he knew his seeker was crashing into trees," said Penelope, following Caroline's line of sight.

"Good," Roger Davies said from her other side. He was a chaser for the Ravenclaw team. He and Caroline enjoyed needling each other over her friendship with Oliver and more than once jokingly checked the lining of her cloak for any sign of a red and gold rosette before Gryffindor's matches. "If Potter's out of commission our team might stand a chance."

Caroline made a mental note to not pass on those sentiments when she spoke to Oliver the next morning. "Whatever, knowing Potter he'll get off with the minimum punishment and the Gryffindors will throw him a party," muttered Elise.

Caroline caught Oliver's eye from across the table and he grinned at her before returning to his conversation. She suspected that Elise was right and was sure she'd find out the next morning when she met Oliver for breakfast.

X X X

For much of her Hogwarts career, Caroline could be found splitting her time between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables. In the mornings she typically ate at Gryffindor because Oliver nearly always beat her downstairs. He was there when she came down on the first morning of the new year, reviewing his course schedule and munching absently on a piece of toast. He didn't even blink when Caroline dropped her bag on the bench and plopped down next to him.

"So, is it really true that Harry Potter and Percy's little brother flew a car here all the way from King's Cross?" She asked, reaching over him for the jug of cold milk.

Oliver pushed a large plate of scones in her direction. "Yeah, you should have seen the common room when they got in. It was like they'd won the house cup on the first day."

Caroline rolled her eyes, biting experimentally into a cranberry scone. "Only in Gryffindor would two second years get a party for nearly killing themselves by flying into the Whomping Willow."

Oliver grinned guiltily at her, as though he found the whole thing rather funny. This didn't surprise Caroline in the slightest as he held his prized seeker in high esteem. "What would you do in Ravenclaw?"

"No Ravenclaw would be that stupid," remarked Caroline through a snort of sarcastic laughter.

"Because Ravenclaws are always sensible and never take any risks," said Oliver with a note of disbelief in his voice.

"Precisely."

"Yeah," said Oliver under his breath. "This coming from the girl who nearly blew up the garden shed at her house trying to figure out the flammable ingredient in her mum's garden insect repellent."

Caroline pointed an accusatory finger at him. "I thought we agreed to never speak of that again? And more to the point that was natural curiosity. I just wanted to see what would happen."

The look of long-suffering that crossed Oliver's face betrayed just now many times he'd been prey to that statement. "Caroline, if you ever write an autobiography you'll title it 'I just wanted to see what would happen.'"

Caroline supposed he was right. Several of the worst calamities in the Abbott household always ended with that phrase. "Why else do you think the Sorting Hat put me in Ravenclaw? My curiosity cannot be curbed," She mused and pulled her schedule out of her bag. "Flitwick distributed ours this morning, compare?"

Oliver put his course schedule next to hers. "Defense, Transfiguration, and Charms together? Nice one!" He remarked, pointing out the similarities.

"Herbology, too," said Caroline. She also noted they shared several free periods. She continued to pick away at her scone while Oliver made sure he had all the right books for his classes. "So when's the first practice?"

"Saturday," he replied, not completely paying attention to her while he dug through his stuff, looking for an ink bottle. "I want to get ahead on training, only two months until the first match of the season and we're playing Slytherin."

Caroline pursed her lips, glancing furtively at the Slytherin table on the other side of the Great Hall. Although she certainly didn't hate Slytherin the way most Gryffindors did, there was no loss of love between her and many members of the house. She spotted Draco Malfoy holding court with his usual gang idiots and scowled. More than once the previous year Caroline had to talk herself out of cursing Malfoy for mercilessly teasing Hannah and her friends. Then there was Marcus Flint half way down the table, Captain of the Slytherin team and Oliver's rival since their first match against each other.

"I hope you guys stomp them," she muttered thinking to the numerous times that Flint took cruel joy in insulting Oliver's skill. For the most part Oliver took it in stride, after all he was twice the player that Flint was and everyone knew it. But after last year's mess of a match against Ravenclaw and Gryffindor's subsequent crushing loss, Flint had targeted Oliver on multiple levels including his ability to captain a winning team. Caroline knew this wasn't true in the slightest, but sometimes she wondered if Oliver was as certain in himself as she always was.

"That's the whole point of starting practice now, getting a head start on preparing for anything those gits throw at us." Oliver spoke with a very barely contained fire in his voice.

Caroline rest her chin in her hand, watching as Oliver tried to rein in the flare in his temper. Nothing riled him up quite like quidditch did. "Didn't Slytherin's seeker finish school last year?"

Oliver nodded. "And I've got no clue who Flint's going to replace Higgs with. If he was smart he'd choose one of the lighter, speedier girls in his house but I bet he won't."

A surge of pride for Oliver's fair-minded approach to captaining rose up in Caroline's chest. One of the things she liked the most about Oliver was his gender-blind views on the game. Talent came in all shapes, sized, and colors in his book and he would take the best wherever he could find it. "Well, it's his loss. Just imagine if were chasers as good as Katie, Angelina, and Alicia hiding in Slytherin all along and nobody ever knew because they possessed the wrong anatomy."

"Its rubbish," agreed Oliver.

The bell rang shortly after and together they left for Defense Against the Dark Arts. By the time they arrived nearly the entire class was already gathered outside waiting. Carline pulled up short, tilting her head to the side in surprise. Several of the girls in class were peering into compact mirrors, fixing their hair, or touching up their makeup. An array of high-pitched giggles fluttered through the masses. She and Oliver shared a look before joining Percy who stood off to the side with Penelope.

"They look like a bunch of peacocks, preening for no reason whatsoever," muttered Percy unhappily. "Who needs to look nice for a teacher? He's not going to pay any of them the time of day."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to look your best on the first day of classes," said Penelope offhandedly. Caroline forced herself to look away from Penelope, knowing full well that her roommate ended up coming late to breakfast because she spent an extra fifteen minutes on her hair and makeup.

"Yeah, Perce, don't be so judgmental! Don't you polish your prefect's badge every night before bed?" Caroline teased. Percy fixed her with a stern glare from behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

"Whatever Oliver's told you isn't true," he sniffed.

Oliver's lips drew into a lazy grin and he shared a glance with Caroline who raised her hand to cover her own wicked smile. As the years went by, Caroline learned to get along with Percy Weasley but she still took any and every opportunity she could to make fun of him.

The classroom door opened and there was a great rush by several of the girls to be the first in the classroom. Caroline waited until the stampede was through before she led the way inside. As soon as she walked through the door she stumbled backwards into Oliver. An enormous portrait of Professor Lockhart sat on the table at the front of the room, next to a large stack of books. Lockhart's bright blue eyes and gleaming hair assaulted her from every angle and the effect was quite jarring. She would rather die than admit it to Oliver but as she tilted her had slightly to the side, she understood Lockhart's surface appeal. His shining, wavy blonde hair suited his face, with features slightly too delicate to be truly attractive to Caroline but his smile was something to behold even in paint.

Oliver's expression plainly betrayed his utter disgust at the chosen décor for the classroom. As Caroline glanced around, she couldn't help but agree. Photographs and paintings of Professor Lockhart lined the room, including one particular gem of the man lounging across a broomstick dressed in nondescript quidditch garb that caused Oliver to snort with derisive laughter. Caroline tugged on his sleeve, directing him to a table in the middle of the room.

"Did you read any of this rubbish?" Oliver asked her while they unpacked their books.

Caroline nodded, turning over her copy of _Magical Me_ to inspect the litany of quotes praising Lockhart's genius, all surrounding another picture of himself. "I got really, really bored while staying with my dad and these are childishly easy reads."

Penelope turned around in her seat, sweeping her long, curly hair behind her back. "I didn't think they were so bad, you didn't like the end of _Gadding with Ghouls_? I thought what he did to save that witch from being eaten was really brave."

A wicked grin tugged at Caroline's mouth as she rest her chin in her hand, waggling her eyebrows humorously at Penelope. "D'you think she thanked him in the vein of your romance novels?"

On Oliver's other side Percy Weasley knocked his entire stack of books off his table. A wave of laughter rippled through the nearby students as he ducked out of sight to retrieve them, showing only a sliver of his extremely red forehead. Penelope, too, was extremely pink but she smiled nonetheless. "Lockhart doesn't seem the type, does he? He's always talking about benefitting other people and all the stuff he does is for selfless reasons."

"Maybe you're right. Besides, I bet he's not even that good looking up close."

"Lockhart's not your type?" Penelope asked, her eyes not quite resting on Caroline.

Pursing her lips, Caroline considered one of the nearest portraits. Lockhart's blindly white teeth were straight and perfect, standing out beneath his blue eyes. The persimmon robes he wore in the portrait were rather eye watering against his skin and perfectly wavy blonde hair. "Nah, he's too pretty for me. Seems like he'd spend more time on his hair than I do. Plus, I'm more partial to brunettes."

Penelope grinned, her gaze drifting away from Caroline once more. Caroline twisted her finger around the end of her champagne blonde hair that fell over her shoulder in a thick braid. Following the line of Penelope's gaze she noted Oliver was smiling a little to himself next to her. "What's so funny?"

He never got the opportunity to answer because at that precise moment the back door of the classroom opened and Professor Lockhart swept into the classroom. With a rather silly flourish, he swept his hat off his head and set it neatly atop the stack of books on the front table. The grin on his face somehow managed to show off every one of his gleaming teeth while he surveyed the classroom.

"Welcome, welcome sixth years!" He spread his arms out, showing off the full sleeves of his vivid turquoise robes. His step was almost a sashay as he picked up one of Suzanne Higgins' books, turning it to the back cover to show off his photograph. "Gilderoy Lockhart, me," he said with a toothy smile to match the dust jacket. "Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, five-time winner of _Witch Weekly_ 's Most-Charming Smile Award—but that's not why you're in this class! You won't receive an Outstanding on your Defense N.E.W.T. by smiling at your exam proctors."

Caroline wasn't certain if Lockhart was waiting for his students to laugh but he continued on after receiving a couple of high-pitched giggles from the girls sitting at the front. "Now I know what you're all thinking," he said.

"Doubtful," whispered Oliver under his breath.

Caroline didn't dare look at him. In her peripheral vision she could tell his shoulders were shaking with silent, barely contained laughter. She knew that if she so much as made a millisecond of eye contact with Oliver that they would both burst into laughter. Lockhart continued to carry his book as he returned to the front of the room. "This class is dedicated to preparing you for your N.E.W.T. exam next year and you must be feeling woefully unprepared after reading about how I saved a small Irish fishing village from the nightly terror of a Banshee's wails but fear not!"

Oliver coughed and Caroline elbowed him hard. "Stop it."

"As the recipient of no less than eleven 'O's on my N.E.W.T.s I am confident that I can successfully guide you through the complexities of Defense Against the Dark Arts such that not only will you pass your exams with aplomb but you'll be prepared for any danger that comes your way! But just remember, solid defensive skills are only half the recipe to a best-seller, the rest is what earns you a contract with _Sleakeazy_ 's men's hair care potions!"

More than one of the boys in Caroline's class snorted and then hacked a cough to muffle their laughter. If Professor Lockhart noticed anything amiss he didn't let it show. Instead he gathered a thick sheaf of parchment, practically bouncing in his unrestrained enthusiasm.

"Now then, I'd like to gauge how far you've all come in your summer reading before we dive right into the meat of this course! Not to worry! This short quiz is just a little start of the term fun!"

Luanne Wells, one of Caroline's roommates, actually sighed when Professor Lockhart handed her the stack of quizzes with instructions to pass them back. Eventually a quiz landed in front of Caroline and she looked down to see over fifty questions.

"This is short?" Oliver whispered incredulously. He flipped through to the next page, skimming through the questions. "I don't know any of these."

Caroline didn't know many of them either but she'd read enough to know to jot down some believable answers. "Just make it up," she hissed. "It's not like he's going to grade them."

In front of them, Penelope hastily scribbled out answers while Percy sighed in a rather annoyed and supercilious manner while he wrote. Caroline pushed through the rather ludicrous list of questions including her personal favorite, _37\. How does Gilderoy Lockhart take his tea?_ Oliver's scowl deepened the further he got into the quiz and a third of the blanks were still empty when Professor Lockhart called time thirty minutes later.

Oliver shook his head in open disbelief, stretching his arms up to fold his hands behind his head while he leaned back in his chair. While Lockhart read through the quizzes in front of the class, Caroline swept her long waves over her shoulder and split them into two sections. Half-listening to Lockhart tut-tut his way through the made-up answers and half-hearted attempts, she wove her hair into a fishtail braid.

"Ah, but miss Penelope Clearwater remembered that my favorite song is _Charmed By Your Love_ by the lovely Celestina Warbeck, who, believe it or not danced with me six times at the annual charity ball for the Children's Wing at St. Mungo's." Caroline slid down in her seat to reach out and kick the back of Penelope's chair. When she turned to glare at Caroline her face was a delightful shade of pink. Oliver's grin widened at her embarrassment, leaning further back in his chair. "And, as Miss Higgins remembered from _Voyages with Vampires_ , the position I could have played on the England national team was seeker but alas, I chose to devote my life to fighting the dark arts instead."

Oliver really did laugh now. Whether by the grace of God or Lockhart's self-absorbed obliviousness, the laughter went unnoticed. Hunching over to whisper in Caroline's ear, Oliver kept his brown eyes fixed on the front of the room. "If he played seeker I'll set my broom on fire," he criticized. "His build's all wrong. Plus if anyone was going to take Bethany Tilton's spot on the national team it'd have been Charlie Weasley."

In the meantime, Professor Lockhart was bestowing his congratulations to Suzanne who answered all but three questions correctly. Then, in front of the entire class he proceeded to sign a brand new copy of _Magical Me_ , personally addressing it to Suzanne who looked on the verge of tears.

"Now then, the testing board has laid out an ambitious list of non-verbal spells you're required to master in order to pass your N.E.W.T. Now I'm not one to laud my own accomplishments but I think you'll find that with my guidance these spells will be easy to master. But before we get carried away with jinxes and hexes we will first tackle the shield charm! I'd like to get a sense of whether you've mastered the verbal incantation before I start teaching you how to non-verbally cast this devilishly tricky but highly useful charm. Perhaps a student would like to volunteer to demonstrate?"

Nobody raised their hand. Lockhart's grin faltered and Caroline thought he might scold the class but instead he just chortled. "Afraid to go up against your professor? I understand completely but let me assure you, no harm will come to you while under my tutelage. Shall I just go to the roster?"

A nasty, sinking feeling hit the pit of Caroline's stomach. She'd been the victim of too many class demonstrations simply for having a last name that started with 'A'. Sure enough, Lockhart's eyes didn't leap past the top of the page.

"Miss Caroline Abbott? Perhaps you'd like to join me at the front of the room?"

A smattering of whistles and encouragement rose up as Caroline walked to the front of her classroom. She pushed her braid out of the way and twirled her wand between her fingers as Lockhart moved the large desk out of the way to allow for more room. "Now then, Miss Abbott, I'm going to come at you with a curse and all you have to do is cast your best attempt at a shield charm! Not to worry if you can't produce one, it's difficult magic at the best of times when you're not faced with a formidable opponent."

It took every ounce of Caroline's willpower to keep from rolling her eyes. She squared her shoulders to Lockhart's, standing ten feet from him. Rather than focus on the excited chatter of the room, Caroline kept her eyes on Lockhart's body language. He tensed up and she raised her wand. His wand hand twitched before he made a motion. A bright blue jet of light erupted from his want just as Caroline flicked her wrist and said _"Protego!"_ in a clear voice. The force of her invisible shield was powerful enough to deflect the curse away from Lockhart, sending the jet of light into one of the smaller paintings hanging just above him and to the left. The painted version of Lockhart scrambled to escape the smoldering hole the left in the painting. But the force of her shield was stronger than she anticipated as Lockhart was forced backwards several steps, his hair decidedly ruffled.

Several girls gasped in horror while a wave of applause rose up from the boys in the class. Caroline couldn't help her cocky grin while she strode over to check on her professor. "Are you alright, sir?"

For a split second, Caroline caught the bewildered light in his eyes and his chin looked quite weak as he struggled to bounce back. He recovered quickly, however, and wagged a mildly condescending finger in her direction. "Excellent show, Miss Abbott, but if we're being honest I let you have that one. In the real world you wouldn't have been quite so lucky. It simply wouldn't have done to curse one of my students on the first day would it?"

Any amusement Caroline felt at the lesson evaporated. Lucky? She opened her mouth to argue with him but clamped it shut when Lockhart dismissed her back to her seat. Anger prickled the lining of her stomach and she had half a mind to tell Lockhart he was lucky she altered the direction of her shield to deflect his spell. When she shoved herself into her seat, incredulous and livid. Lockhart split them into pairs to practice shield charms. Caroline spent the lesson with Oliver, flinging small hexes and jinxes back and forth while helping him adjust the power of his shield charm. They had such a good time coming up with inventive ways to jinx each other that by the time the lesson ended, she forgot she was so annoyed with Lockhart.

X X X

Professor Snape's sixth year NEWT potions class took place on the second day of classes. Caroline bumped into Percy Weasley on the way down to the dungeons and when they ducked into the classroom she was surprised to see only three of her classmates there. Another three students trailed in for a class of only eight when Professor Snape swept into the classroom, flicking his want to slam the door. He took his place behind a long table containing several simmering cauldrons of various sizes and makes. From her place in-between Percy and Elise Kinsley, Caroline tried not to quell under the force of Snape's glittering black glare.

"So," he said in his trademark soft, dangerously silky voice. Caroline often thought she'd prefer if Snape snarled and yelled on a consistent basis; there was something about his tone that always unsettled her. "This is the best that your year could offer."

His eyes settled over each of the eight students in turn, moving down from Elise to Phillip Blakeley, another student in Ravenclaw; to Huma Deepak, a Hufflepuff; and then to the three Slytherins who all stood at a table, smirking while Snape's lip curled at his other five students. Professor Snape's blatant preference for his own house was famous, far outweighing the favor that any of the other three house heads gave their own students combined. In fact, Caroline was fairly certain that Professor Flitwick was colorblind to the tie colors in his classroom as he never once elevated his Ravenclaw students over any others. But Potions was a different story and by now Caroline was long-accustomed to Snape cutting breaks for the Slytherins.

"Before me are a series of potions that any competent fifth year could already make and you will be expected to know for your NEWT. If you cannot even identify these eight potions then I'm afraid you won't be long for this class." Snape's lip curled up.

"Is one of them a shampoo solution?" Elise whispered in Caroline's ear, barely audible when Snape turned away to consult his class roster, shaking his curtains of greasy hair away from his oily face. Caroline's lips twitched but she didn't dare so much as lift one corner of her mouth. Laughing in a normal-sized Potions class was dangerous enough, she didn't dare attempt it with so few other potential targets.

"Weasley!" Snape barked. "Identify the potion in the first cauldron!"

Percy's feet actually left the floor in the face of Snape's snarl. Ramrod straight, he approached the table, taking the time to examine the standard pewter cauldron the caustic green contents. "This is Wiggenweld Solution, sir," said Percy.

"Characterized by?" Snape snapped, as if disappointed that Percy knew the answer.

"The vivid green color, created by titrating salamander blood until the late-stage pink turns green. Also by the diaphanous bubbles that form on the surface even after the potion is removed from heat."

"Well, well, turns out not every member of your family is a hopeless case," Snape sneered coldly. "Miss Deepak!"

Huma came forward to identify the second potion, an elixir to induce paranoia. When she missed one of the three crucial ingredients, Snape launched into a tirade on how he expected any fourth year student to know that crushed porcupine quills were essential though Caroline knew for a fact most adult wizards would never know that. She wanted to complain to Elise under her breath but was stopped when Snape turned his ire on her.

"Miss Abbott," he said, fixing her with his dark gaze. It was no secret that Caroline bested even his prized Slytherin students in potions on a regular basis. Snape didn't hold her or her fellow Ravenclaws in the same contempt as he did the Gryffindors but he'd made it plain on more than one occasion he wasn't impressed by Caroline's natural ability. "Let's see how much you've retained over the summer."

Caroline came around her table and approached the third cauldron. Set above a jet blue flame in a small gold cauldron, she could have identified the potion in her sleep. "This Amortentia," she replied confidently.

"What is the effect of Amortentia."

She knew Snape expected specificity. "It's the most powerful love potion known. The effect is immediate and produces a strong, obsessive-like infatuation but not real love. There is no potion that can actually induce someone to fall in love."

"And why is Amortentia brewed in a gold cauldron?"

"Because certain compounds in gold stabilize the potion and enhance the potion's effect."

"There are three notable identifying characteristics of Amortentia."

"The mother-of-pearl sheen," she remarked gesturing to the gently shimmering, almost rainbow surface of the potion. "The distinct steam spirals that turn counter-clockwise," she pointed to the tell-tale spirals. "And finally the aroma, distinct to each person according to what attracts them most."

At that moment, Caroline made the monumental mistake of inhaling. The scent of new leather and something springy filled her up. It was the exact same clean, crisp scent of the field behind her house after it rained accompanied by something she'd also smelled before but couldn't place it. Was it fresh soap? Possibly with something warm and woodsy, and so comforting that Caroline wanted to wrap herself in it.

"Miss Abbott! Unless there's something more you'd like to share with the class take your seat."

A ripple of laughter washed through the class as Caroline snapped back and returned to her seat, her cheeks burning. Professor Snape ignored her embarrassing gaffe to quiz the rest of the class before he split them into pairs and set them to attempt the Draught of Living Dead. According to Snape if they did everything correctly the potion would achieve the ideal clear lilac color for the half-way stage by the end of the lesson where they would finish the next class. He partnered her with Phillip Blakeley, a fellow Ravenclaw who had grown an extra four inches over the summer, Caroline was convinced. When he sat down with her he flashed her a smile that could rival Professor Lockhart's for perfection.

"Miss Abbott, imagine my relief to be partnered with the best of the best." Caroline raised an eyebrow.

"Don't expect me to carry us both, Blakeley," she said with a grin.

"I would never," he promised and flipped open his textbook to the potion in question. "How about I work on the Sopophorous beans while you get the base going?"

In the past, Ravenclaw had potions with Gryffindor and Caroline nearly always partnered with either Oliver or Penelope. But Blakeley turned out to be an incredibly pleasant partner, capable of chatting away banally while they struggled with the complex preparation and stirring directions of the potion. Caroline had always been on friendly terms with him, but never knew that he had an humorous streak to complement his good looks. Every so often he ran his fingers through his curls of almost black hair, displacing them attractively across his forehead and Caroline decided she liked his light hazel eyes.

They were nearing the mid-stage of the potion and Caroline was helping him with the final sopophourous beans, using her sharpest knife to cut through the hard exterior of the bean.

"D'you think he set us this potion to try and weed one or two of us out?" Blakeley asked under his breath while he reached for the final bean. Behind them, Snape was busy ripping into Elise and Huma for the unusual royal blue smoke issuing from their cauldron.

"Maybe," Caroline whispered. "Personally, I think he just enjoys being nasty."

He smirked. "I bet you anything his boggart is a laughing student."

Caroline grinned. She turned the bean onto its side and pinched it tightly between her thumb and forefinger. "What do you think happens when he fights it?"

"Turns into Harry Potter crying in the fetal position."

She snorted in laughter and her knife slipped, slicing right into the side of her index finger. A colorful curse escaped her lips as she snatched her hand away to avoid contaminating the partially opened bean.

"I'm so sorry, Caroline!" Blakeley exclaimed.

"It's okay, go ahead and finish up. I don't want to get in trouble when we're so close to finishing." Blakeley started to argue but one look from her and he acquiesced. Caroline retreated to the stone basin at the back of the classroom to rinse off the cut, hissing when the ice cold water pushed into the deep slice. Miraculously, Snape didn't seem to notice the commotion and it allowed Blakeley to finish stirring the potion until it turned the perfect shade of lilac. While they waited for Snape to come by and critique their work, Blakely fished his wand out of his bag.

"I've gotten pretty good at healing spells," he said and took her hand, unwrapping the corner of her robes from the cut. His long fingers were cool to the touch and sent a pleasant chill rushing down Caroline's spine. Blakeley held the tip of his wand just over the gash. " _Episkey_." The wound sealed itself, leaving a thin, pink line along her skin. "That ought to go away after a few hours."

Caroline inspected Blakeley's handiwork and grinned. "Thanks!"

Seconds later, Snape swept by their cauldron. Snape managed to find ways to criticize them but let them go without too much fuss. They bottled their half-finished draught and escaped together.

Blakeley insisted on carrying Caroline's bag up the stairs out of some misplaced guilt and he was still apologizing when they reached the top of the stairs. His platitudes were bordering on comical such that Caroline was laughing when they came out into the Entrance Hall.

"Honestly, Blakeley it's fine! It's not the first time I've cut myself in class and I doubt it's the last."

"You cut yourself?" Oliver's voice reached Caroline from where he'd been waiting for her near the top of the stairs.

She smiled up at him. "It's no big deal, Blakeley said something funny and my knife slipped."

Oliver didn't seem to agree with her assessment and he reached for her hand to open it and inspect. "You should go to Madam Pomfrey and have her heal it."

"Don't be ridiculous Oliver, it was just a small cut. Besides, Blakeley fixed it no problem." Oliver examined the fading pink line on her skin with a dubious expression, as though expected the cut to burst open and gush blood all over the flagstone floor. Rolling her eyes she turned her attention back to Blakeley. "Can I have my bag back? I thought you had a meeting for Charms Club?"

"I do," he said and settled the strap of her leather messenger back on her shoulder. Blakeley started to walk away and then paused, spinning on one foot back to her. "Hey, d'you want to work on Snape's assignment together? Split up the research and compare notes?"

Caroline smiled. "Yeah, that'd be great. I'll see you in the common room later?"

"It's a date," he joked with a mega-watt grin that turned her stomach over. Blakeley walked away and Caroline couldn't help but appreciate the view.

"What was _that_ about?" Oliver asked from behind her.

She shrugged, but a faint pink flush swirled into her cheeks. "We were partnered together in class and it turns out he's nicer than I thought. That's all." Caroline shook off the slight embarrassment she felt and turned to go into the Great Hall. "Come on, let's grab dinner now so we can get a good table at the library before it gets full."

X X X

The rest of Caroline's first week passed in a fairly unpleasant haze. Even though she'd kept only the subjects she needed for acceptance to the International Potions Institute, her workload was worse than ever. Those glorious free periods were eaten up by essays, spell practice, and researching endless ingredient lists for potions class. After spending most of Friday night practicing nonverbal charms with Oliver in an abandoned classroom, Caroline went to bed with a splitting headache and was glad to have Saturday morning to sleep in.

For Caroline, sleeping in meant lasting until eight-thirty when the sounds of her classmates tramping up and down the stairs in the Ravenclaw tower woke her. Still it was better than the pre-dawn wakeup call that Oliver had planned for his teammates and Caroline was immeasurably grateful that she was no longer the target of his mania. Instead she took her sweet time getting dressed and venturing down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

She brought her copy of Advanced Potion Making with her, to review the paragraphs on theory while she absently buttered toast and ate her eggs. The Ravenclaw table was peppered with students but she'd missed the big weekend breakfast rush already. From her position with her back to the doors and the Gryffindor table she missed the majority of the Gryffindor team coming into the Great Hall all six players looking incredibly heated.

Caroline nearly came out of her skin when Oliver dropped onto the bench next to her. She flinched so hard that she upended her orange juice all over the table and only Alicia Spinnet's quick hands saved her Potions textbook. Alicia, however, couldn't save Caroline's jeans and thermal shirt which were now splashed with orange juice.

"Damn, Caroline, I'm sorry!" Oliver exclaimed, reaching for a stack of napkins to try and help blot the worst of the damage from her clothes. Caroline rose to her feet to examine the extent of the staining and sighed.

"Practice went that well, huh?"

Judging from the way the Weasley twins stopped snickering at her misfortune, Caroline had hit a nerve. Angelina Johnson's normally pretty face was twisted in a disgusted expression. "It wasn't much of a practice to be honest," said Alicia, fishing her wand out of her bag and pointing it at Caroline's sweater. She used a clever little incantation that siphoned the orange juice off her clothing and back into her goblet. Caroline shot Alicia, with whom she got on very well, a thankful glance before sinking back down, now facing the rest of the team.

"What happened?" Caroline asked Oliver who was spreading marmalade across a piece of toast.

"Slytherins showed up," muttered one of the twins, Caroline couldn't tell which.

"Yeah, and this'll be of interest to your house team too. Turns out Malfoy's father bought the whole team new brooms."

"Draco Malfoy?" Caroline echoed. "That pale snot-nosed kid who constantly bullies my little sister and her friends?"

"That's the one," muttered Oliver grimly. "Seven brand new Nimbus 2001's just so Malfoy could be seeker for the team."

Caroline balked at the notion. "But that's ridiculous. Why would Flint let an untested player onto his team in exchange for new brooms? The equipment is only as good as the person using it."

A note of affection glimmered in Oliver's eyes. She'd heard that comment more than once from him over the years among many other gems of wisdom he kept stored up for pre-match pep talks. They then informed Caroline of the details surrounding the whole exchange, right down to Ron's little brother's ruined wand backfiring. The twins did derive a rather twisted amusement out of the sight of their little brother burping up slugs but nobody was amused as to the reason why.

"Malfoy just up and called Hermione that-that _awful_ word and Flint did nothing?"

"I suspect he would've been laughing but he was too busy shielding Malfoy from Fred and George," said Angelina. She got to her feet and sighed. "Well, on that cheerful note I think I'll just skip breakfast."

One by one the members of the team dispersed until just Oliver remained. Caroline finished her breakfast while he continued to pick at his, lost deep in thought. Years of his brooding moods taught Caroline that there was no use in trying to talk to him until he came out of his thoughts himself. And so she let him continue to sulk through the end of breakfast and when they parted ways for the remainder of the morning. Caroline found him again later that afternoon in one of his favorite spots on the far side of the lake. She carried a package from home in her hands, likely stuffed with not only her favorite things but Oliver's as well.

He was sitting cross legged, staring the notes he'd jotted down on one of his two leather-bound playbooks for the team. Caroline hated to see the way his shoulders were slightly rounded, making him appear much smaller than he really was.

"My mum sent me a care package. What do you want to bet she's put a note in here for you with some oatmeal cookies?" Oliver glanced up from his playbook. He didn't immediately answer her and Caroline sighed. Folding her legs neatly beneath her, she sat down next to him. Oliver didn't protest when she shut his playbook and set it to the side. "Look, I know you enjoy having a good wallow now and again but this is a bit much even for you."

Oliver's answering glare might have scared away someone else but Caroline remained undaunted, she'd weathered way worse storms from him before. "Seven Nimbus 2001's, Caroline. _Seven_ of them, that's one for each player!"

"I'm well aware of the math, Oliver. Just like I know you're well aware that your team is more than up to the challenge of beating them."

"But what if I'm not?" He asked her in a quiet voice.

Caroline stared at him, truly stunned. "What on earth are you talking about? Of course you're up to the challenge! Why wouldn't you be?"

"They're going to be blurs, Caroline. How am I supposed to defend the goal posts if I can't even see their chasers coming? And if I'm not up to my best how can I expect the rest of the team to be?"

Caroline sighed and scooted closer to him. Without thinking anything of it she bumped her shoulder gently against his. "Because you seven are a team and when one of you struggles the rest come in to help make up for the deficit. You've got three chasers who are deadly accurate and Fred and George don't need to hit the other players to knock them off course. Plus, speed doesn't make up for accuracy; what's the point of being that fast if you're a rubbish shot?"

"Pucey's not a rubbish shot," Oliver admitted of Adrian Pucey, hands-down the best player on the Slytherin team. He took a tremulous breath and made an admission that sent Caroline's eyebrows towards the heavens. "And when Flint's on form he's not rubbish either."

"But he will be overconfident, which means he's not going to work his team nearly as hard as he should be. Especially that little slime ball Malfoy."

Oliver nodded, beginning to soak up the point of Caroline's pep talk. He still groaned and flopped back onto the soft grass, pillowing his head with one of his arms. "I just don't want to let the others down y'know?"

Caroline rotated to look back at him. Oliver stared up at the clouds as they rolled in over the grounds. A scowl played at his lips, reflecting the worries that clouded over his brown eyes. Without thinking, she reached out and brushed his thick chestnut hair off his forehead. Oliver's gaze shifted to her. Caroline offered him a frank little smile before she shrugged her shoulders.

"Look, they're going to be faster." Oliver made a disheartened noise but she kept pressing on. "There's no getting around that and in your first match against a new obstacle you might not have your best game. But your personal save record is one of the best in school history for a keeper. Hell, Oliver, you even had a damn near perfect record in last year's final and that couldn't have been easy all things considered."

Oliver's jaw tightened reflexively as it always did when the subject of the previous year's disastrous final against Ravenclaw came up. It had taken weeks for the sting of the blow to lessen before Caroline would even bring the topic up in conversation. In all their years of friendship and residing in different houses it was the only time Caroline could remember that Oliver resented her for being a Ravenclaw even though she swore that nobody in Ravenclaw was particularly proud over the way they'd won.

"My point is nobody is going to judge you or feel like you've failed as a team captain. You've put together a team of six excellent players and you can win this match. You will win this match." Oliver's self-doubt started to creep up in light of her fierce praise and she shook her head to silence him. "Oliver, you're going to pull it off. You're forgetting that Harry can wipe the floor with Malfoy any day of the week, I don't care what broom he's got." This reminder seemed to cheer up Oliver considerably.

"He's one hell of a flier and he's only gotten better."

"See! There's your silver lining! Now sit up and see if you can explain to me why Percy asked me about Penelope's taste in music."

Oliver snickered and accepted Caroline's hand up. She dug through the care package which did indeed contain a note for Oliver taped to a tin of her mother's cinnamon oatmeal cookies he liked so much. For a while longer they sat together near the water's edge, talking about Percy's newfound crush on Penelope and speculating over why Dumbledore asked Professor Lockhart to teach Defense. By the time Oliver walked with her into dinner he'd forgotten his bad mood, though Caroline had no idea that he was considering her his very own personal silver lining for every bad situation.

 **A/N: Next chapter features an awkward moment!**

 **I love your feedback!**


	3. Stay Young

**A/N: Long delay, but I'm still writing!**

 **Disclaimer – You know what's mine and what's not.**

 **Chapter 3 – Stay Young**

Caroline liked to notice patterns in everyday life. She had a knack for picking up the strange repetitions in behavior and also the patterns in magic. Arithmancy was one of her best classes because she could see between the lines of equations to pick up on mathematical patterns. She assumed this was also why she was the best in her year at Potions, because she understood the underlying scheme between similar potion types and effects and the commonalities of certain ingredients and ingredient families.

So, when within the first month of her sixth year she noticed the reemergence of two identical red headed blurs, attaching to her every move she wasn't entirely surprised. It was just another pattern showing itself. The two boys came out of the woodwork at precisely twelve-fifteen every day when she made her way to the Great Hall for lunch every day. Cute and oozing endless amounts of charm, her hangers-on were a humorous distraction from the usual humdrum of her daily routine. As time wore on they'd gotten better acquainted with her special quirks and had taken to trying her out with various bribes.

Last week it had been color-changing daisies. Once, last year they even tried to win her over with an actual kitten. Today it was her favorite dark chocolate champagne creams from Honeydukes.

"C'mon, Caroline," said George Weasley while Fred cracked open the lid of the box and made a big show of wafting the chocolate smell towards her.

"Hmm, nope!" Caroline exclaimed cheerily as the unusual trio wove through the traffic in the hallways.

"Are you sure? Because this chocolate smells so delicious," said Fred taking a big whiff of the seashell shaped confections. "I could just roll around in a bathtub full of these beauties." Caroline and George made a frighteningly similar expression of confused disgust and Fred merely shrugged. "You have your hobbies, I have mine."

Caroline shook her head of silky pale blonde curls, letting them stream down her back and catch on her wool sweater. "Well, with a mental image like that I'm definitely sure I don't want to eat those and I'm also sure that I can't help you."

George, now two full inches taller than her after his summer growth spurt, put an arm around her shoulder. "But see, the thing is that you can help us. You're just choosing not to."

In unison she and George skipped the trick step on the staircase that took them from the third to second floor. "I suppose that's another way to look at it and why are you two so upset anyway? I thought you liked playing quidditch."

"Oh, we do," assured George with a toothy grin.

"When Wood's not being a nutter," muttered Fred under his breath but still purposely audible.

"You two geniuses do realize that even if I convinced Oliver to cancel practice he'll just schedule another one next week to make up for the missed one."

Fred and George shared a look, they obviously hadn't thought about that. The mental calculations the boys were running weren't difficult to figure out. Caroline's experience with the Gryffindor beaters had revealed a fundamental balance of interests in their life. It was either annoy Oliver for the sake of their pretty female teammates and their leisure time or make Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell upset just to please Oliver. The scales usually held steady on balance, especially the closer the team drew to a match but at the beginning of the year things were always a little out of sorts. Caroline chalked this up to Oliver's tendency to go a touch overboard when he got started with the team. This year had been no exception to the rule.

"You don't understand, Caroline," Fred whined, opting for a rapid fire change of tactic. "Ever since he found out about the Slytherin team's new brooms he's been even crazier than usual. Downright manic, actually. He woke us up at dawn again this Saturday and spent another hour going over tactics. Again, Caroline. Again."

George nodded fervently. "No man should have to endure that much lecturing that early on a Saturday."

"Oh, I know," replied Caroline. Oliver always woke up early as a child and although Caroline expected that to change as he grew older it hadn't. He was also the worst kind of morning person because he wasn't just awake and alert, he was cheerful and full of energy and genuinely miffed when nobody else around him was ready to seize the day. He had a penchant for complaining that she slept too late on summer mornings. His intense focus and drive could not be curbed not even by early mornings or the fact that she was the furthest thing from a morning person and possessed an arsenal of insults to lob at him. She remembered too well the long summer days she spent trying to convince Oliver to finish his summer homework or to do something fun instead of obsess over his new and improved training program. In spite of knowing him as well as she knew herself, Caroline had still fallen in his trap more than once, listening to him drone on and on about new warmups, play formations, and drills to run.

"So then you get our plight and you'll ask Wood to cancel Friday's practice!" Fred exclaimed.

Caroline swallowed her laugh. "I'll give you two one thing, you're persistent 'till the end but the answer's still no."

"Why?" George complained.

They'd reached the annex of the Great Hall. Caroline wormed out of George's hold and when Fred wasn't quite paying attention she snapped the box of chocolates from his slack hands. "Because if you were a quidditch player worth your salt you'd never let me take those from you," she teased and hearing the indignant squeak pop out of Fred's mouth was well worth their pestering. "Plus if I'm going to use any of my personal leverage with Oliver to get anything you'd best believe it'll be for my own selfish ends and not yours. So if you really want him to move practice I suggest you start working on your talking points."

"You're evil," marveled Fred in a voice that suggested he was more impressed than he was upset.

"So you've told me before, but I commend your efforts. Really, I do." Caroline fished a champagne cream out of the box and popped it in her mouth. George made a faint wheezing sound and her wicked grin only grew. "Thanks for the chocolates, boys."

She turned around and continued on her merry way into the Great Hall, walking between the aisle that separated the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables. Oliver sat a ways down with Percy. Neither boy even flinched when she dropped her bag on the table and sank onto the bench next to Oliver.

"Good afternoon," she said from around her chocolate.

Oliver and Percy greeted her without taking their attention from lunch. Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver noticed the twins sauntering in just after her, moving off to sit with their friend, Lee Jordan. "So what was it today? Sonnets or sugar quills to replace the ones you've already gone through?"

"Even better than the usual fare, I almost caved," she explained to Oliver. He glanced at the Honeydukes box and rolled his eyes.

"Let me guess, dark chocolate champagne creams?"

"My favorite," she said happily and held the box out to the two boys.

Percy gladly accepted one with a small helping of grumbling about his moronic little brothers. Meanwhile Oliver, who was no fan of sweet food, declined with a scowl. He crossed his muscular forearms over his chest. "How many times have they tried to convince you to convince me to cancel practice?"

Caroline shrugged, entirely unmoved by Oliver's glowering. "I dunno, at least two dozen times."

Percy snorted in rare laughter and Caroline just patted Oliver's shoulder. "You know I told them those were your favorites. At the time I wondered why they would bother to ask but now I see why."

"You have got to stop giving them ammunition or one of these days they're going to figure out I'm a sucker for curl relaxer potion and then I will convince you to cancel practice. Mark my words, Wood."

Oliver's brown eyes narrowed in a glare. "You wouldn't dare, Abbott."

"For a bottle of Celia's Curl Charming Cream? Oh, but I would; that stuff is incredible. Maybe I should start dropping hints."

The look of long-suffering that crossed Oliver's face only further amused Caroline such that he was already in a bad mood when a familiar figure came to a halt by them. Professor Lockhart's cerulean robes did all sorts of favors for his eyes and more than once Caroline wanted to ask if he had everything handmade. Gold thread embroidered the sleeves and edges that opened over his matching waistcoat.

"Ah, Mr. Wood! Just the man I was looking for."

Caroline turned her head away, lest Oliver or Lockhart see the open laughter on her face. She made eye contact with Percy and to her surprise, his lips quivered. Seeing him so amused was rare but it was impossible to not laugh at Oliver's misfortune. Oliver reeled back slightly in the face of so much blue but recovered quickly. "What can I do for you professor?"

"Was wondering if I could have a word, captain to former captain?"

Lockhart clasped Oliver's shoulder, there was no escape now. Caroline kept her gaze pointed to her plate as Oliver gathered his stuff up but her shoulders shook in silent laughter. Just before he disappeared under Lockhart's domineering grasp, Oliver caught her eyes and shot her a glare that plainly said she was going to pay for taking so much joy out of his suffering.

X X X

While Lockhart steered Oliver out of the Great Hall and towards his office, he made a mental list of all the ways he could possibly get back at Percy and Caroline. One the one hand, Percy was an easy fix. All he had to do was make a mess in their dormitory, leave his quidditch gear on the floor, or hide Percy's prefect's badge to irritate his roommate. On the other hand, Caroline was a difficult nut to crack. Unlike Percy she was slow to anger and was much better at brushing off daily annoyances. If he tried to take her books she would just borrow from a friend until he caved and gave them back. He could try to jinx or hex her but she was too good with her wand; she could retaliate with greater speed, precision, and skill without blinking. Oliver supposed he could take the more immature route and use one of the Weasley twins' pranks on her but that seemed like overkill. In the end, Oliver couldn't decide and it didn't really matter because Lockhart ushered him into his office and his train of thought completely derailed.

Everywhere he turned pictures of Lockhart grinned and waved at him. Forcing himself to focus on the real Lockhart, Oliver blinked several times; the vivid blue robes he wore didn't make staring at him any easier either. For a long moment Lockhart sized him up and Oliver shifted uncomfortably in his seat until his uneasiness became too much to bear.

"Is there something you needed, professor?"

Lockhart's grin widened. "Just thought I could have a quick word with you about your young seeker."

"Harry?" Oliver asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

"I've been told he's touted as quite the rising star," mused Lockhart. He pressed the tips of his fingers together, covering his mouth. Oliver frowned, what on earth did Harry's rising star have to do with anything?

"Uh, yeah, he's a good player, a really hard worker," agreed Oliver.

"I assume that it can be difficult, having to coach a player whose star eclipses your own, especially since Mr. Potter seems quite keen on adding to his modest fame." Oliver gaped at the man. What planet was this nut job from? Harry Potter was a household name! Oliver remembered hearing about Harry when he was a kid on the rare occasions his parents talked about the first war. But the funnier part was that for all the time Oliver knew Harry he'd been unusually reserved and far more interested in downplaying his fame. Harry tended to be quiet and kept to himself and his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. After practices, when everyone else hung around to talk Harry almost always bolted, headed back to the tower to rejoin his them. Oliver couldn't imagine a more humble, well-adjusted kid all things considered.

This, too was all nothing to say of Lockhart's assumption that Oliver cared one iota about his own notoriety. Oliver was fully aware that he'd never been the most popular boy in school nor had he ever strived to be. He had his friends and had the team and that was enough for him. Quidditch was the only thing that Oliver was passionate about, the only thing he truly excelled in and he played for the love of the game regardless of what anyone else thought. Even the mere suggestion that Oliver only played quidditch for a shot at popularity or even fame wasn't just laughable, it was downright offensive.

Raising his hands in defense, Oliver tried not to let too much sarcasm leak into his voice. "Honestly professor, I think you've got Harry all wrong and as for me, I'm really not concerned about who's winning popularity contests around here."

The obnoxious smile on Lockhart's face faltered. He stared at Oliver with thinly veiled incredulity, like it had never occurred to him that personal fame wasn't the most important accomplishment one could have. "Well, it's refreshing to see modesty in a player. You know when I finished school I had seven teams in the League ask me to play for them, didn't even have to try out! Could have played for the national squad too had I not chose to pursue eradicating the world of the dark arts. I'd be happy to come to a few of your practices and offer my expertise, especially to handle young Harry."

Oliver nearly fell out of his chair. "That's really okay, professor. I like to keep team practices closed and I'm pretty set on my training plan so."

"Oh, nonsense! I'm happy to do it! We'll make arrangements—and oh that must be the bell. Must go, there are third years awaiting me, eager to learn how I solved a poor Irish fishing village's kelpie infestation!"

Oliver couldn't get out of Lockhart's office fast enough. He shot up from the chair so hard he almost knocked it over. Lockhart blithely waved him out of the office and as soon as Oliver got clear of the doorway he started towards the stairs down to the first floor classroom corridor, walking at a fast clip.

His head spun from the absolute ridiculousness of his conversation with Lockhart. At the start of the term, Oliver suspected that Lockhart was a bit of an idiot but now he knew it without a doubt. He couldn't imagine a more ridiculous discussion concerning Harry and Oliver's competency as a team captain. Anyone who knew Oliver knew that he never gave preference to any of his players, least of all Harry who worked harder than anyone else on the team as it was. Oliver's scowl deepened when he considered Lockhart suggesting that maybe Oliver wasn't up to training his team what with all the pressure and hype surrounding Harry only to then suggest that he might be of service in helping the team out.

"Git," Oliver muttered under his breath. The Gryffindor team was his team and his responsibility. Their success lived and died in part on his coaching and discounting Harry's unfortunate incident the previous year he'd done perfectly well so far thank-you-very-much. Oliver thought about the hours he poured into his training program, into the specific exercises he'd developed for each player on the team, to the running lists of weaknesses and strengths for each player, and everything he'd done to turn a group of seven individuals into a seamless unit. No other team in school was so perfectly in sync and so aware of each other's position and role on the team. And to think of Lockhart barging in and trying to ruin that wasn't just annoying, it was alarming.

Resolve started to harden in his chest. If Lockhart was serious about coming to watch practice and give tips then Oliver would just have to go to McGonagall first. Yes, she would nip this problem in the bud for him. Where Oliver couldn't exactly assert authority over another professor he trusted the head of his house, almost as much of a quidditch fanatic as he was, to stop Lockhart from butting in where he didn't belong.

Oliver wound down the stairs and to the first floor classroom corridor where he walked into the N.E.W.T. Muggle Studies classroom. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't realize he was among the first to enter the room after lunch. Dropping his bag on the floor, he sank down into his seat and started to dig around in his bag for his textbook and notes.

Muggle Studies was one of the few classes he didn't share with Caroline but already he couldn't wait to tell her about his encounter with Lockhart. Luckily, he knew that would be the first question out of her mouth when they met up after class to work on homework together. A grin tugged at his lips when he imagined the look on her face when he told her the part about Lockhart going on about his own successes on the pitch, especially when he mentioned seven teams wanted to sign him. For the most part, Caroline was a great listener and always reacted in the best ways and her knew her wide-eyed shock would be followed by a snort of laughter that would ease the worst of his anxiety until he joined in the laughter with her.

Oliver felt better already knowing he could get McGonagall to step in and that Caroline would make light of the whole thing. He started to open his book to the day's reading when a light, girly voice interrupted his reverie.

"I'm sorry but I think you're in my seat?"

Oliver dropped his quill in surprise. A sinking feeling of horror dropped into his stomach like a stone. Sure enough, when he looked up it was to find Annette Andrews standing next to his desk, her hazel eyes surveying him curiously. "Am I? I thought this was my seat?"

She remained passive, looking behind him one row. "I sit in the third row and you sit behind me in the fourth." Oliver wasn't sure which of the two of them was more surprised or embarrassed about his gaffe. His neck became unbearably hot under the collar of his shirt. Not only was Annette looking at him like he was a completely idiot but she also happened to be one of the prettiest girls in his year, certainly the prettiest in Gryffindor. Oliver couldn't remember ever exchanging more than a handful of words with Annette Andrews; she spent most of her time with her friends and spent most of last year dating Ewan Combes from Hufflepuff. That hadn't stopped Oliver from occasionally admiring her raven-colored hair that stopped just at her shoulders or her clear skin and pretty smile. Annette cleared her throat uncomfortably.

Oliver realized then that he was still sitting in her seat. Mortified, he got up and grabbed his stuff, shifting to his actual desk behind her. As he moved, he missed Annette's eyes liberally glazing over his shoulders and taking in his height as though just now really noticing him for the first time. He thought that would be the end of it as he sat down but then she turned around.

"Did you have a good summer?"

His mind went momentarily blank. Since when did Annette Andrews, one of the most popular girls in school, give him the time of day? "Uh—yeah, it was good. Spent most of it at home working stuff for the quidditch team." She nodded and continued to watch him, her eyes taking in minute details of his appearance that he hadn't even considered. Was his hair a total wreck? Had he cut himself shaving and didn't notice? His fingers twitched, wondering if he should button his top button and fix his tie. Then Oliver realized she was waiting for him to respond. "Er-what about you?"

Her lips drew into a tiny smile, as if she thought his awkwardness was very charming. Caroline would be laughing herself hoarse by now if she was sitting next to him. "It was great. My parents took me on holiday in south France."

The entire class could have been sitting around them and Professor Burbage waiting to start but Oliver wouldn't have noticed. He could hardly believe that Annette was talking to him. "That's cool, I've never been there before."

"You should go sometime! The beaches are really beautiful. Lots of sun and all that." Annette paused, shifting slightly in her seat. "Did you see Caroline Abbott at all?"

He chuckled. "She lives two houses down from mine so just about every day."

"Are you two-" Annette broke off as soon as understanding dawned on Oliver's face.

"No," he said firmly, answering the question on reflex. Over the years he and Caroline fell prey to people's suspicions and assumptions on a regular basis. "We've been friends since we were kids. She's practically my sister."

Oliver's insides squirmed. He didn't know why he felt the need to add the last part, he'd never thought that about Caroline before because he didn't consider her like a sister. They were just who they were, Caroline and Oliver, separate entities and the best of friends. Annette nodded, her lips parting softly in thought as though all of this information was much more interesting than it really was. Whatever Annette was thinking or wanted to say next, Oliver never got the chance to find out. Meghan Keating, one of her closest friends filed into the classroom and sat next to her, immediately stealing her attention. Oliver frowned and leaned back in his chair only to see Jake Farrat trying to get his attention. When Oliver glanced his way, Jake gave him a discreet thumbs up. Rolling his eyes, Oliver was actually relieved in Professor Burbage started class.

X X X

The only free period Caroline didn't share with Oliver fell just after lunch on the days he had Muggle Studies. More than once she'd teased him about taking the class just so he could pad his schedule without putting in any extra work. He freely took advantage of Caroline's extensive knowledge of the muggle world to pass and she suspected that this year would be no different.

She took advantage of the free period to catch up on her latest potions essay. After achieving high marks on their first essay, Caroline and Phillip Blakeley started regularly splitting their research workload, comparing notes and synthesizing their findings into their own essays. This arrangement suited them so well and got them such good marks that they didn't even think twice anymore about partnering up for class and for splitting out the workload to cater to their strengths.

That afternoon, after Lockhart dragged Oliver off to talk about quidditch, Caroline immersed herself in unwinding a particularly complex set of brewing instructions to isolate the key transformative periods for a peacefulness draught. A slight ache pounded between her temples while she flipped the pages of a couple of books, trying to understand certain principles of ingredient interaction when a shadow fell across her table.

"Nice to see you without your usual ball and chain, Abbott."

The hairs on the back of Caroline's neck stood up. She tried to pointedly ignore the newcomers to her table but she heard the telltale scrape of chair legs on the floor. Blowing out a sigh, she raised her head to drop her chin in her hand.

"What do you want, Flint?" She enquired, tilting her head to the side to observe the quidditch captain of the Slytherin team.

Marcus Flint's thick, black eyebrows rose up once and she did not miss the appraising glance he gave of what he could see of her. "Who says I want anything? Maybe I'm just interested in your fine company this afternoon, ever think about that?"

Caroline rolled her eyes and snapped her book shut. "No."

Flint's brutish face split into a leering grin. He twirled his wand lazily between his fingers, leaning back into his chair and getting comfortable. Annoyance bristled in Caroline's chest. "Well, maybe you should," he remarked draping his arm across the back of his chair and glancing up to the ceiling. His would-be casual pose might have worked for a boy with good looks but as it was, Marcus' heavy-set brow and brutish jaw left a lot to be desired. Caroline considered that Oliver would look much better lounging like that, pausing once to wink at her for his idiocy before returning to his normal self. "I bet you'd be pleasantly surprised how good of company I can be. Better than your usual standard anyway."

And there was the rub. For years now Caroline endured Marcus Flint's irritating, if mostly harmless, barbs and attempts to get under Oliver's skin through her. He liked to toss out flirtatious comments when she walked down the halls or drop by when she studied to invite her join the Slytherins. Caroline couldn't have cared less and Flint knew that because he nearly always bothered her in front of Oliver who hated the attention the Slytherin captain lavished on her. Mostly, Caroline just hated Flint's sexist, Draconian methods and personally thought he'd be better off just antagonizing Oliver directly rather than drag her unwillingly into it.

"And as always, I'm perfectly happy with the company I keep," she retorted and then raised her hand, brushing him off with her fingers. "Now run along."

Flint's grin just widened and he glanced at the other Slytherin with him whom Caroline had been pointedly ignoring.

"You're only happy because you don't know any better, Abbott," a silken voice pricked her nerves the wrong way.

Where Flint was irritating but fairly innocuous, his friend was a completely different can of worms. Out of the corner of her eye she could see another Slytherin with him, almost as tall as Flint. The similarities between Flint and Ennis Ward ended there however, as Ward was blonde and had the bluest eyes Caroline had ever seen. Many girls considered Ward to be among the most handsome boys in school but Caroline never got the appeal. Every time she looked at him she couldn't but see a dangerous light glinting in his eyes, hungry and predatory. His sculpted jaw led up to sharp lips that revealed straight, white teeth when he smiled, revealing sharp canines. He played chaser for the Slytherin team and spent almost as much time chasing skirts as he did the quaffle.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she evaluated Ward coolly, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he made her nervous. "Funny that you presume to know my mind, Ward, considering it's my own."

"It's a gift," he remarked smoothly, dropping his eyes to the loose curls that tumbled over her shoulder. A shiver slipped down her spine when he leaned across the gap separating them and lifted one off her shoulder, fingering it curiously before letting it fall back into place. "Just like I know you'd look much better in green than red."

Her cheeks turned pink at the insinuation and she recoiled from his gesture. "Touch me again and I'll curse you into nothing."

Ward remained utterly unruffled by her threat. His low chuckle permeated the tense air, Caroline missed Flint's amused expression slip. Uncomfortable tension hummed between the trio, with Flint hovering uncertainly between Ward and Caroline unsure if he should laugh or put an end to the nonsense. Caroline wondered what Oliver would do if he saw her like this, cornered by two of the people he loathed most in the world. She knew she could take care of herself but a tiny part of her wished he was there, just to even out the odds.

But salvation came to Caroline in a different, no less welcoming form. "Flint, if you're looking to get Caroline's notes from Charms you might as well give up—they're way too complex for you to understand."

Penelope swept into sight, arms clamped around her books with a dark expression marring her face. Percy Weasley hovered behind her looking just as displeased. Their prefect's badges shone on their school robes. For as much of an idiot as he was, Flint knew better than to cause problem with so many people and uptight Percy Weasley in the mix who was apt to report him to Madam Pince. He looked to Ward and jerked his head towards the exit.

"Let's go, last thing I want is to be seen next to a Weasley."

Percy turned a funny shade of pink and his chest puffed up, prepared to make the situation worse but one look from Penelope silenced him. Caroline and Ward still hadn't taken their eyes off each other. The intense light in his blue orbs unsettled Caroline, too interested for her liking. Slowly, he rose, making a point to maintain eye contact.

"See you around, Abbott," he said before following Flint out of the library.

Caroline released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. It wasn't until Penelope sat down and touched her hand did she come back to herself. "You okay?"

Shaking her head clear, she forced a smile which neither of her friends bought. Percy glanced at her and then at the doorway where Ward and Flint had gone through, his lips pulling into a scowl. "If Ward was behaving inappropriately you should report him, Caroline."

"I agree," interjected Penelope. "It's bad enough he struts around the castle acting like he's God's gift to women. But if he's making you uncomfortable someone needs to step in."

"And do what?" Caroline asked. "Monitor his behavior and give him gold stars if he's a good boy? Don't worry about me, I can handle Ennis Ward." As she spoke, Caroline tried to inject as much confidence in her voice as possible but it was clear from the second glance Penelope gave her that she didn't believe a word her friend said.

They set to work, with Percy jumping in to work with Caroline on potions but she was distracted. Already she dreaded what Oliver would say when she told him.

X X X

After Muggle Studies ended, Oliver suffered through a mind-numbing Ancient Runes lecture before finally being released for the day. He had more homework than he wanted to even consider but his mind was currently fixated on getting to Professor McGonagall's office before she left for dinner or disappeared into the staff room. Oliver had to fight against a tide of students, mostly Gryffindors and Ravenclaws heading to their respective towers to drop their books off before dinner. At last he made it to the first floor and down the corridor until he reached her office and knocked on the door.

To his immense relief, Professor McGonagall answered within seconds. "Mr. Wood, what brings you here?"

"Do you have a minute, Professor? I just need to talk to you about some quidditch stuff."

If there was one thing Oliver could be certain of it was his head of house's willingness to talk quidditch. Professor McGonagall was good at keeping a straight face but every so often he saw the flicker of a smile or the gleam of enthusiasm when it came to defense tactics, training sessions, and the like. Wordlessly she opened the door wider and allowed him to take a seat in one of the deep red armchairs before the cheery fire.

"So," she said once she sat down in the armchair across from his. "How can I help you?"

"Well, it's kind of weird but Professor Lockhart cornered—er—asked to speak me at lunch. Long story short he's insisting on coming to Gryffindor's practices to offer assistance," he said and just narrowly bit his tongue to keep from saying 'as if I need any from him.'

Professor McGonagall reacted exactly the way Oliver hoped that she would. Her mouth pulled so tight it almost disappeared and her eyebrows snapped together above her square spectacles. Oliver's eyes strayed to her hands and wrestled down a smirk, her grip was tight on the arm rests before she raised them to readjust her glasses. She shook her head and did her best to keep her initial thoughts to herself but when she got up to bustle around her office Oliver heard her anyway.

"Oh, that ridiculous man."

She opened a cabinet from the credenza behind her desk and produced a tin Oliver had become quite familiar with over the last two years. She popped the lid off and returned to him, holding it out. Oliver plucked a biscuit from the depths and snapped it in half, nibbling on one of the ends.

"Don't worry, Wood. I'll take care of Professor Lockhart. Gryffindor's team is yours to captain and coach and you've certainly done extremely well on your own thus far without his particular brand of help." Oliver felt a pleased flush burn the back of his neck. Professor McGonagall was not one to be liberal with praise and as such, he considered her compliments among the highest possible. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes but waited until she finished her own biscuit before finding her voice again. "Out of curiosity, did Professor Lockhart say why he wanted to attend Gryffindor's practices?"

Oliver slumped lower in his chair, comfortable enough with her to roll his eyes up to the ceiling. "Something about me being jealous that Harry was more popular and talented or that he's being an attention seeker? I dunno, Professor, it was honestly all a bunch of gibberish. Harry works just as hard as anyone else, maybe even harder when you take the Weasleys into account."

"Gibberish indeed," she agreed and Oliver fought the urge to grin. Of all the teachers at school Professor McGonagall was his favorite. "There's no need to concern yourself on the matter any further."

"Thanks. I know I can't go telling teachers to butt out so I really appreciate it."

"You're quite welcome," she said and paused before daring to broach a different topic. "Practices are going well?"

Oliver frowned. "As well as they can be with the weather. It's going to be a tough match."

"Well, just remember, a broomstick is no replacement for talent or competent leadership," she advised and he smiled at her. There was no way Professor McGonagall could know that he'd received the exact same advice from Caroline only the week before. "I am happy to see your schoolwork isn't suffering, you seem to keeping up just fine."

"You can thank Caroline for that," he said thoughtlessly. The implications sank in and he rushed to cover his tracks. "Not that she's doing my work for me or letting me copy," he said hastily. "She just points me in the right direction when I need it, that's all."

Oliver's insides squirmed. Pointing in the right direction wasn't exactly a fair description either. Caroline often gave him copies of her notes and lists of resources she used in essays. More than one of his best grades was the direct product of her proofreading his work and offering suggestions on how to improve certain areas. She liked to work out the snarls in his logic, swearing up and down that making him a better student made her one too.

To his relief, a small smile turned up the corners of Professor McGonagall's mouth. "I'm well aware of Miss Abbott's influence on your studies. I wonder if Gryffindor house doesn't owe her a debt of gratitude for all the help I suspect she's provided to the team over the years."

If only Professor McGonagall knew the half of it! "Sometimes I think she ought to be an honorary Gryffindor."

Professor McGonagall raised a hand to cover her smile. "And you two are still only friends?"

"The best of," he replied, his brow furrowing. What was it with so many people asking him this question lately? Was Caroline getting the same treatment?

Professor McGonagall nodded and looked as though there was more she wanted to say but chose not to. "Well, if there's nothing else, Wood, you should go to dinner."

"Yeah, will do. Thanks again, Professor."

Oliver let himself out of her office. Rather than go all the way up to Gryffindor tower and all the way back down he sauntered into the Great Hall. He scanned the tables until he found exactly who he was looking for. Caroline barely acknowledged him when he sat down next to her, too caught up reviewing something in a textbook.

"Hold on one second," she said, holding up a finger and drawing out her words.

Far from annoyed, Oliver just smiled and started to load up his plate. This was the Caroline he knew best, always desperate to finish one more paragraph. As she read she continued to keep her finger aloft to stop him from saying a word. Oliver watched her read, eyes scanning the page at a rapid clip and absently wondered why everyone kept asking him if they were together, first his father and then Annette and Professor McGonagall of all people in one day. Was there something he was missing?

Caroline saved him from further thought when she finished her paragraph. Closing her book she turned to face him with a broad grin. "So? Are you an Lockhart best friends now?"

He groaned. "How long have you been waiting to use that one?"

"Since you left," she chirped, far too happy to have fresh ammunition against him. "C'mon, fess up, did you two trade hair care secrets? Does he have a miracle shaving cream that he simply can't live without? Are you now practicing your smile in the mirror so when you're a famous pro player you too can be on the cover of Witch Weekly?"

The fact that she found the entire exercise so obnoxious made him see the funny side of it too. "How'd you know?" He asked, spearing a potato with his fork. "You're enjoying this way too much, by the way."

She shrugged. "I'll take my entertainment however I can get it and c'mon, you have to admit the whole thing is pretty funny. The look on your face was priceless."

Caroline dropped her chin in her hand to smile at him and Oliver felt his stomach turn over. Had he ever noticed the mischievous glint in her eyes before? Deciding that he had he pushed the thought deep down, blaming it all on too many questions crossing too many boundaries. He and Caroline were and always would be friends.

Nothing more and nothing less.

X X X

The weeks melted into a rainy, blustery October. While the weather continued to worsen so did Caroline's general outlook on the importance of her education. Classes were harder than ever, with most of her teachers requiring the use of non-verbal spells and assigning extra practice on top of so much homework Caroline felt as though she were preparing for exams every day. To make matters worse, Snape seemed to take immense pleasure in terrorizing his NEWT students and the potions he set them to brew were increasing in difficulty. For the first time ever Caroline had to turn in an incomplete potion though she took comfort in knowing that every student in the class hadn't completed the fever reducing draught. More than once during the early days of October Caroline caught herself wondering if finishing school was really worth the hell she was enduring in the meantime.

On the second Tuesday in October, Caroline sat at the Ravenclaw table with Penelope, taking a brief break from her homework to eat a late dinner before returning to the library. Her neck was sore and her fingers hurt from spending most of potions dicing up ingredients into small, uniformly-sized cubes to promote an even dissolution. She was glad to be in the Great Hall, even if it was gloomy outside the natural light was far preferable to the glum, cold dungeons.

A handful of owls swooped into the hall, bringing evening post. Caroline glanced up, surprised to see Hendrix, the Abbott family own drop a letter off to Hannah before fluttering down in front of Caroline.

"Who's it from?" Penelope asked from her spot next to Caroline. She was taking advantage of the sparsely populated Great Hall after dinner, spreading their Arithmancy number charts across an empty stretch of the Ravenclaw table.

Caroline didn't need to read the name on the upper left hand corner to know. Only one person typed his letters to her. "My dad," she said with a slight frown. "But it's unusual for him to write this early in the term. Usually he waits until closer to Christmas to confirm the usual plan and to ask what I want."

Curious, Caroline tore open the envelope and unfolded the stark white copy paper. She couldn't name the font that Hiram used to type out his letter but the sharp angles and all-business attitude perfectly matched his personality. Absently, she took a bite out of her roll and nearly spit it out seconds later when she reached the meat of the letter.

"What is it?" Penelope asked.

"Oh my God," she muttered, excitedly tearing through the contents of the letter. "He might be going to California and he wants to take Hannah and me with him."

Penelope snatched the first page of the letter out of Caroline's hands and began to pour over the contents. Caroline handed off the second page of the letter to Penelope and started packing up her stuff. "It's official, you're the luckiest girl in this school if you get to go. Wait, where are you going?"

"To tell Oliver, I can't believe it!"

Penelope didn't flinch at being abandoned and instead shrugged. "Okay, I'm meeting Percy in the library in a bit anyway to start on Transfiguration. You and Wood should join us."

"We will," said Caroline absently as she fastened her cloak and hurried out onto the school grounds. The night was miraculously dry as she walked onto the pitch to get to the Gryffindor changing rooms. Oliver would have finished practice by now and sure enough she passed the rest of the team on her way in. Caroline ducked through the doorway into the main meeting area of the Gryffindor locker rooms. The main room was draped with red and gold silks and an enormous chalkboard stood at the back wall, containing a diagram of the pitch that was covered with Oliver's writing.

"Oliver?"

"Hey! You can come in, it's just me."

She pushed the scarlet drape out of the doorway and walked into the boys' side of the changing room, grinding to an immediate halt. Oliver stood at his open locker, using a towel to dry off his still-damp hair. He wore his grey uniform trousers but nothing else, drawing her eyes to his shirtless chest and torso. In an instant she clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her surprised squeak before she immediately spun on her heels and walked out.

Caroline walked to the clear other side of the main meeting room. Pressing the backs of her hands over her burning cheeks, she closed her eyes and then immediately opened them. The negative of Oliver's body was burned into the blackness behind her eyelids. The pounding of her heart only worsened. Had she always known that Oliver was keeping all of that underneath his uniform shirts? The last time she'd seen him without a shirt they were still children and he hadn't hit any of his growth spurts. Caroline definitely didn't remember his pale, smooth skin sliding over his gently defined muscles and broad shoulders. She hadn't expected the chestnut hair that dusted his chest before pulling inward and disappearing beneath the waist of his trousers. Even worse, Caroline never thought she'd be so flustered by the sight of him standing before her completely unabashed in his state of undress.

What had he been thinking? It was incredibly apparent to Caroline that Oliver hadn't been thinking. If he had he would have known that letting her blithely walk in on him like that was stupid.

"So unbelievably stupid," she muttered to herself, scrubbing her face with her hands.

Caroline's muscles twitched uncomfortably while the burn from her blush sank lower, spreading across her upper chest and slipping down into her veins. A funny heat filled up her chest, expanding her lungs and seeping lower into her stomach. She knew that Oliver trained hard and focused on a lot of exercises on the ground to assist with his balance and throwing but she never imagined all those seemingly basic moves would add up to that kind of physique. The tips of her fingers tingled as her traitorous mind turned to the lithe muscles that led down his arms to his large hands and long fingers. Caroline knew he had a strong grip from years of catching and holding onto quaffle in the most tenuous positions. The coil tightened even harder when she wondered what else his hands could do. A tiny explosion pitted out her chest as she choked on a breath of air.

"For heaven's sake get yourself together," she hissed under her breath, immediately banishing the thought of her palm resting in the center of his chest to feel the beat of his strong heart.

"Caroline?" Oliver's voice drifted from the doorway. "Are you okay?"

Caroline wanted to melt into the floor and just die. The flush in her cheeks hadn't receded in the slightest but keeping her back to him was worse. Digging deep she drummed up the first casual comment she could find to deflect the awkwardness and then whirled around, her skirt flouncing against her thighs as she did. "Yeah," she said with a game smile. "Just warn a girl next time."

Oliver remained raised an eyebrow. His collar was flipped up while he tied his tie. The shoulders of his crisp white shirt pulled across his chest awakening a whole new level of appreciation in Caroline. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize it would be such a big deal," he said so nonchalantly that Caroline wanted to smack him upside his head for being such an oblivious moron. But that was Oliver to a T. He had absolutely zero idea that he was in possession of a body that most boys in school would murder to have. Oblivious as he was to the wonder of his own physique, Oliver wasn't blind to the furious blush in Caroline's cheeks. Rolling his eyes he straightened the knot of his tie and turned his collar back down. "This isn't going to get awkward is it? Please don't make it awkward, Caroline. You walked into the boys' side of the changing rooms, it didn't occur to you I might still be getting dressed?"

"You told me to come in!" She spluttered indignantly.

"Because I didn't think it'd be a big deal, it's not like I was walking around in a towel."

Caroline had to turn away again, clapping a hand over her eyes. "Ollie, don't make this worse!" She took a deep breath and smoothed her hands over her uniform as a means of releasing her fidgety tension. When she turned around he was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. The languid grin that tugged on his lips held a note of amusement that Caroline found incredibly obnoxious. "Don't be such a jerk! I walked all the way down here to tell you something exciting and instead you're lounging against the wall like the worst stereotype imaginable and never mind!"

Huffing, Caroline shouldered her bag and started to leave when a hand closed over her wrist. Oliver gave her a gentle tug to wheel her back around. The smirk was gone, replaced by his honest, if somewhat failing attempt to be serious. "Don't go, I'm sorry! I promise next time you come down here I will be fully clothed. Now what is it you wanted to tell me?"

Caroline seriously considered giving his shin a sharp kick but relented. Opening her leather messenger she fished out the letter and handed it to him. "It's from my dad! Turns out he's got this amazing opportunity to go teach a summer seminar at Stanford University. It's a really prestigious muggle college in California and he says that if he gets it he wants to take Hannah and me with him for the month he'd be gone! Can you believe it?"

Oliver scanned the letter, taking in the uniform type of the words printed from a muggle computer. Hiram never hand wrote his letters to his daughters, favoring the computer and then signing the bottom with a flourish. The contents of the letter were far more exciting than the method of delivery and Caroline bounced excitedly as he rounded to the parts all about how they'd be close to San Francisco and on the weekends he thought they could go down to Los Angeles and as far north as Seattle. Caroline knew the city names and locations were somewhat lost on Oliver who hadn't spent most of his life obsessing over a map of the world, pinpointing all of the places he wanted to visit.

"Did you get to the best part yet?" She couldn't contain the question any longer, rising to the tips of her toes to try and judge where he was on the final page.

"The part where if you go to Seattle he wants you to set up a tour of the International Potions Institute? Caroline, that's fantastic!" He exclaimed, folding up the letter and stuffing it back in the envelope. "Seriously, it's like your dream come true."

Caroline carefully put the letter away in her bag, grinning from ear to ear at even the mere thought of finally seeing the Institute, her dream for as long as she could remember. "It'd be so incredible to finally see it in person and meet with an admissions counselor! Plus getting to see all of California and Washington!"

Oliver chuckled. "This is all you're going to want to talk about for the next week, isn't it?"

Caroline shrugged but her impish smile clearly answered Oliver's question. He left her long enough to grab the rest of his stuff from the changing room and together they set off for the castle. "Does your dad think it's a pretty sure thing?"

There was a hesitation in Oliver's voice and Caroline knew why. "I know what you're thinking," she noted, wrapping her cloak tighter around her body to shut out the autumn chill. "But my mum wouldn't have let him get our hopes up like this if he thought it wasn't going to happen. I dunno, maybe he's realized that this is my last summer before school ends and he wants to finally get some quality time in before I go off on my own."

"That's probably it," agreed Oliver. He never said too much when it came to the subject of Caroline's parents. The acrimonious divorce that had engulfed the entire Abbott family was a subject he preferred to skirt when possible and when he did get involved it was in a comforting, friendly capacity only. Sometimes Oliver was wiser than he gave himself credit for as Caroline had never one heard him say a cross word about either of her parents though she knew he harbored some fairly bitter opinions about both Helena and Hiram. Caroline supposed that Oliver and his parents would never quite forgive her parents for the arguments that drove both girls out of the house, just to get away from the shouting. "It's all really exciting, I hope it comes together for you."

Unthinking, Caroline looped her arm through his, grinning broadly into the cold night. "Me too! I might actually have an excuse to buy a bathing suit for once in my life and get a real tan. Actually, I don't even know if I can tan. Now there's a good experiment for my summer."

"Yeah," said Oliver with his best amused long-suffering voice. "I'm not going to hear the end of this until Christmas, at least."

Caroline smacked his shoulder playfully, their earlier awkwardness forgotten. "Says the boy capable of hour-long tactics and pep talks."

Their conversation devolved into a teasing fight that carried all the way to the library where they joined Percy and Penelope, already deep in the throes of their Transfiguration homework. Caroline sat with her back to the windows, immersed in her homework. She glanced up once just as Philip Blakeley strolled by, carrying a couple of books for Potions. He caught her eye and tipped his chin up with a grin that could melt ice cream on a cold day.

"Hey, Caroline," he said in his svelte voice.

She rest her chin in her hand and flashed him her own smile. "Hey yourself," she replied. "Don't let Snape keep you down."

"I'll do my best, see you in class tomorrow." He gave her a wink before he continued on down the aisle to join some of her other housemates at a crowded table. When Caroline returned back to her own table she found Penelope grinning wickedly at her. Caroline pointed the business end of her quill at her roommate.

"Don't you dare start," she threatened.

Penelope adhered to Caroline's order but she kicked her friend under the table which elicited a bout of giggles from both girls. They only stopped when Percy let out a pompous, exaggerated sigh. Caroline kept her eyes on her homework to keep from laughing again, missing the sidelong, confused glance that Oliver gave from his spot next to her.

 **A/N: Next chapter features quidditch! Leave some love - Chinchilla**


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